


If I Had Three Wishes (They'd All Be For You)

by phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1D Big Bang, AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Dildos, Drug and Alcohol Use, Family Angst & Drama, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Kissing, Louis in Drag, Louis in Makeup, M/M, Many firsts, Minor Character Illness (cancer), Semi-Public Sex, Strangers to friends to FWB, Whales, side Ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 66,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: When Harry Styles sets off for Provincetown, MA from his tiny hometown of Kerkhoven, MN, he’s facing an uncertain future. He’s always planned to leave, just...not like this. When he meets a gorgeous cabaret performer on his first night in P-town, little does he know how his life is about to change, or how much he has yet to learn. When they become more than just friends, Louis makes it clear he's not looking for anything serious, but at least, Harry consoles himself, they’ll always be friends. Over one extraordinary summer, Harry learns to navigate life on his own through a journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening. But when Harry’s past tragically reappears in his life, will his friendship with Louis be able to hold on?





	1. May 2016

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in the works for nine and a half months. There are so many people I have to thank, I don't even know where to begin. 
> 
> First, I have to say an amazing thank you to my incredible artist, Elliott (go [ look at his stuff, right now.](http://blueylouie.tumblr.com/)). I've never worked with an artist before, and it was an incredible experience. Mainly, he did his thing and I just went WOW and cried a bit. 
> 
> So, SO many people have supported me in the writing process from the very beginning and I love you guys, so much. My _Squadron_ , my _Oop for It_ friends, my _Larrying friends_. I hope you know how much I love you and how much you have made a difference in my life with so much more than just writing. 
> 
> To my advance readers and betas. To [Stacy](http://littlebabyruth.tumblr.com/), [daysundercover](http://daysundercover.tumblr.com/), [a-writerwrites](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/), [femmequixotic](http://femmequixotic.tumblr.com/) and [noeeon](http://noeeon.tumblr.com/) \- you lovely, lovely people. I cannot thank you enough for your help, your support, your criticisms and the push to keep writing when I got lazy. THANK YOU SO MUCH and a million kisses to each of you.
> 
> Please note, this fic is not tagged for who tops, (my thoughts about that are [here](https://phd-mama.tumblr.com/post/160117747783/so-i-just-got-this-comment-on-feels-like-coming) if you're interested, and any comments asking for that will be deleted!
> 
> This is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain. Please don’t break the 4th wall or post anywhere else! 
> 
> As always, the words, as well as the errors, are mine.

 

 

**Kerkhoven, MN & On The Road**

**May 29th - May 31st**

Harry puts the last of the things he thinks he might need for the drive on the passenger’s seat of the car, and slams the door. The car is full, and he hopes he has everything, because if he doesn’t, it’s gone. He turns to look at the weathered farmhouse. The lights are off, and the door is closed. It isn’t that no one is home, and he would bet good money that none of the other three residents of the house are sleeping, even though it’s barely 5:00 in the morning. Harry hadn’t slept at all last night. He’s pretty sure none of them had.

His stomach churns at the thought of leaving this way. This is it. He is actually leaving the only home he’s ever known. He’s dreamed of this moment for years, but he never thought it would be like this. He’d imagined watching the figures of his family grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, waving until he turned the corner onto Highway 140, which would take him out of sight of the farm. But now, he is alone in the front yard, staring at the closed door. The glow of the rising sun reminds him that he needs to get going.

With a final sigh, his heart breaking, he gets into the battered Toyota. He gives one last look at the house, and then turns the key. The engine roars to life, and he winces, realizing he is going to need a muffler sooner rather than later, but feeling a certain sick satisfaction that no one inside will miss the sound of the car starting.

There is no movement from the house. Harry shifts the car into gear, disengages the brake, and pulls out of the driveway. He doesn’t look back, and he doesn’t cry.

That first day, Harry makes it all the way to Chicago. The early hours of the day are spent watching the endless flat fields go by and listening to music. He is trying his best to ignore the events of the last two days but keeps getting tripped up by his own playlists. He does okay with Luke’s country western songs at first. It’s not his favorite genre, but it seems appropriate for the midwestern terrain he’s driving though, until the Kenny Rogers song comes up in the queue.

 _What will I do when you are gone?_  
_Who's gonna tell me the truth?_  
_Who's gonna finish the stories I start,_ _  
The way you always do?_

Well _shit_. Trying to keep his eyes on the road, he fumbles for his phone, knocking it on the floor.

 _How will I sing when you are gone?_  
_Cause it wont sound the same._  
_Who will join in on those harmony parts,_ _  
When I call your name?_

Cursing, he finally resorts to turning off the audio entirely to get the song to stop and drives in silence for the next two hours. When he retrieves his phone from the footwell of the car, he carefully pulls up a playlist of EDM, and lets that pound through him for the rest of that day’s drive.

Arriving into Chicago overwhelms him so much that he pulls off at the first reasonable looking motel he sees, books a room and, carrying only his overnight bag, shuts the door behind him, and goes immediately to bed, even though it’s only 5 in the afternoon.

This leads to him waking at 4 the next morning, and in the cold grey light of the predawn, early summer morning, he weeps, for the first time in years that he can remember.

The problem with grief, of course, is that you can’t actually stay in bed crying forever, no matter how much it feels like you might. Harry finally calms down a bit, and rolls over, head aching and eyes swollen, to check the clock. 5:00 am. Twenty-four hours since he’d left. Twenty-four hours into his new life, and Harry is not enjoying it at all.

He finally pulls himself from the too-soft bed, and heads into the bathroom, wincing at the glare of the fluorescent lights. He snarls at his red eyes, “Get yourself together, Styles. C’mon. Time to man up. It is what is, you have to get moving.” Shaking his head at the sad expression reflecting back at him in the mirror, he washes his face, brushes his teeth and leaves the bathroom. Deciding to forgo a shower, he packs his things together, and is on the road by 6:00 a.m.

Day 2 finds him in Cleveland. Between the shorter drive, and the early start, he pulls into the motel parking lot just before noon, suddenly too tired to go any farther. He checks in, and hauls his small bag into the room. He sits on the bed, and feels...odd. Very odd. With a start, he realizes that for perhaps the first time in his life, no one knows exactly where he is. He has nowhere he has to be, other than Provincetown in four days. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can do anything.

The first thing he opts for is a nap. When he opens his eyes, the late afternoon sun is streaming through the sealed window, and he is suddenly wide awake. Pushing down the loneliness in his chest, he wonders what to do with himself. It’s only 3 in the afternoon. Too early for dinner. He could go to a movie? Read? He thinks about yesterday’s playlist fiasco, and, suddenly determined, opens up his laptop and grabs his phone. He’s got about another 12 hours in the car, and he’s not going to be caught unaware again. He gets to work.

Harry calls Day 3’s playlist ALL OVER BUT THE CRYING. He starts slow, with Rihanna, some Counting Crows, a little Bonnie Raitt just to really rip his heart out. Songs about loss, about the end of love, and betrayal. By the time he pulls into his motel just outside of Syracuse, he’s blasting Simple Plan’s Thank You and singing, well, shouting really, along at the top of his lungs. He’s been picturing leaving everything on the road behind him as he drives, and he’s starting to feel the pain and grief seeping out of him, leaving him empty.

When he discovers that his phone has been shut off, he doesn’t break, not even when it hits him that now his family will have no easy way to get in touch with him. That's okay. If they want him, they can just come and find him. He just takes a deep breath and goes to ask the lobby clerk where the nearest Verizon store is.

By Day 4, Harry has learned a few things. Motel beds make his back hurt. No matter how bad the coffee is at the roadside stop, it is always better to drink it than not. And today’s playlist has been exactly what he needed. This one is called I AM AN INDEPENDANT WOMAN and is filled with the songs that have always made him feel more hopeful, more powerful and more alive. This playlist is an odd mix of Beyonce, Queen Latifah, Pink, and Shania Twain. When Gloria Gaynor shuffles on as he hits the bridge that will take him onto the Cape, the last leg of this first stage of his journey, he rolls down the windows, and belts out at the top of his lungs,

 _At first I was afraid, I was petrified_  
_Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side_  
_But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong_  
_And I grew strong_ _  
And I learned how to get along_

He can do this, he thinks. He can learn to get along.


	2. June 1 -14, 2016

**Provincetown, MA**

**June 1st**

Harry slams the car door shut, and leans back, stretching his arms overhead and bending first to one side, then the other, in a modified half-moon pose, trying to ease the ache in his lower back. He double-checks the address on his phone, and eagerly looks around, taking in the surroundings, not quite believing that he is here, finally. The cottage is tucked into a small side street, about a block off of Commercial Ave, _the_ main drag of Provincetown, which features bars, coffee shops, art galleries and all the other trendy necessities for the wealthy (and _very gay,_ Harry’s mind whispers to him) summer residents of the small town. It’s a center entrance colonial, with the front door level with the street that has the same weathered cedar shingles that he’s seeing on many of the other houses around. It’s so different from the farmhouses of Minnesota that he feels disoriented, almost like he’s in a foreign country. Even the air is different, cool with a tang of salt from the ocean that Harry can’t see from here, but can taste on the wind.

Harry had felt a bit overwhelmed by his entrance into Provincetown. First the long drive over the bridge, meandering along Highway 6, past the lobster shacks and motels, then making his way off the highway through the small winding streets, until Siri had deposited him here, his home for the next two and a half months.

Harry takes a deep breath, and heads toward the cottage. He’d been assured by Ben, the intern coordinator, that it would be no problem to park his car in the corner of the lot and leave it for the summer. Everything he’d need was in walking or biking distance, Ben had insisted. So, leaving his entire life’s possessions for the moment, Harry cautiously opens the bright red front door, recalling the instructions to just head in and make himself at home when he arrived. As his eyes adjust to the interior light of the house, he hears a voice say cheerfully, “Are you Niall? Or Harry?”

Startled, he gapes up at the young woman with vibrant violet hair standing on the landing halfway up the stairs. He’s traveled more than just a physical distance in the last four days, and sue him, he’s tired and certainly not at his best.

“Oh my god, the look on your face!” she honest-to-god chortles, grinning down at him. A look of concern crosses her face. “Wait, you do know your name, don’t you, sweetie?”

Harry offers a rueful grin up to her, “After 4 days in the car, I’m not sure I know anything anymore.”

“Oh no! Well, come on in, whoever you are! Err, I do hope you’re an intern, or it’s going to get really awkward.”

Harry laughs, as much in relief as anything else. He’s here. He’s really here. “I’m Harry, Harry Styles,” he offered. “Yeah, I’m an intern. Is everyone else here already?” He mentally kicks himself, remembering that she had just asked him which of two guys he was.

The girl shakes her head, “No, we’re still waiting on the other guy. I’m Perrie, by the way, and I’m rooming with Laurie. We’ve got one of the bedrooms on the 2nd floor here. Alice and Maxxie have the other one. You’ll know it’s them because they NEVER STOP HOLDING HANDS!” She shouts the last part of her sentence past Harry towards the large living room where he can see through the open doorway, two women snuggled up on the couch together, and yes, they are holding hands. He tries not to stare as the darker of the two women laughs and calls out, “Fuck off! You’re just jealous.”

Perrie rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath, “That’s probably accurate.” She turns back to Harry. “So, we’re just waiting on Niall, the Irish dude from Boston. C’mon up. I’ll show you your room.”

Harry follows Perrie up the stairs and around the corner, then up a second set of stairs. She chatters as they walk, “You and Niall have the attic rooms. The setup is, you could be on the second floor where it won’t be quite so hot, but you gotta share, or you get the single rooms, but you’re in the attic, that’s the trade off. And really, to be honest, we put you guys in the attic so you’d have your own bathroom and we wouldn’t have to share with you, that’s why we stuck you up here.”

“Heyyy,” Harry drawls, laughing a bit. Without thinking, he adds, “I resent that normative characterization of masculinity!” He freezes. This is not the kind of thing farmers from Minnesota talk about, but then, he reminds himself, he’s not in Minnesota anymore, is he?

Perrie snorts. “Oooo big words! Sorry, dude, didn’t mean to, you know, _imply_ anything!” She laughs as she widens her eyes at him, and Harry feels the sudden spike of panic ease _._

By the late afternoon, Harry realizes that, for perhaps the first time he can remember, he’s feeling almost _relaxed_ in the company of other people. Niall had showed up about an hour after he had arrived, and they’d spent the rest of the afternoon unloading their things, getting Harry’s car tucked into the back of the lot and covered, and beginning to get to know each other. If Niall finds it bizarre that Harry’s car is absolutely stuffed with everything he owns, he doesn’t comment, just glances at the car, then at Harry with an almost knowing look, and simply helps Harry tie down the tarp.

As they work, they begin getting to know one another. Niall is open and quick to share the details of his life, how he’d grown up in Southie, fallen in love with whales on a school trip to the New England Aquarium, how he’s the first in his family to go to college. He doesn’t seem to notice that Harry’s doling out details of his own life sparingly, like bread crumbs, preferring instead to ask more questions. Then again, Harry thinks, catching the appraising glances that Niall’s giving him, maybe Niall does notice. But he’s not pushing, and for that, Harry is grateful.

They finish hauling their things upstairs where Harry examines his attic room, thrilled. It’s a wonderful, generous size, simply furnished with a double bed, night stand, dresser and a desk. He and Niall both have windows and skylights. Harry’s room looks out onto the postage-stamp sized backyard and small garden (that he is already itching to get his fingers into), while Niall’s overlooks the nonexistent front yard and street. They have a shared bathroom that has so many doors, Harry is baffled. They each have a door from their room (and quickly work out a signal to indicate when the other man might want to vacate the premises for a bit), as well as the door to the landing at the top of the stairs, and there are, oddly enough, three linen closets. Harry hopes he won’t end up in the closet if he gets up to pee in the middle of the night, and snorts at the irony. He spends some time unpacking his things, getting the bed made, and putting some photos up on the wall. He hesitates on hanging pictures of his his family and friends, and finally sets them aside, putting them in the bedside tables drawer, opting instead for landscapes and closeups of plants and flowers that he’s taken. He’s tired, but not sleepy, and has a feeling he might have some trouble winding down that night. More pressing at the moment, though, is that he’s hungry. He steps across the hallway and raps on Nail’s door.

“C’mon on in!” he hears the cheerful voice call, and he opens the door. Niall has, in the last hour, transformed his own room, the mirror of Harry’s, into an explosion of color, with a decidedly Irish tint. Harry notes the various framed photos, and, with delight, a guitar that matches his own. He indicates it with a shy gesture, “You play?”

Niall’s face lights up. “Yeah, mate! Do you?”

Harry nods. “I’ve been playing since I was about twelve.” He doesn’t mention that he’s never actually played in front of anyone other than the cows. He knows Luke’s heard him, and had occasionally commented, “Sounding good, little brother,” but had never pushed him to share anything beyond that.

Niall bounces in excitement, “Let’s jam after dinner! What kind of stuff do you like? Do you write your own songs? Aww man, this summer just got even better!”

Harry freezes as it hits him that there’s a way in which he’s never been truly honest about who he is. He’d had friends at home, of course. He was _Harry Styles_ , one of Kerkhoven’s golden boys. Everyone back home loved Harry Styles, but they hadn’t known him. They’d known things _about_ him, of course: that he played football, that he got good grades, that you could always ask him for help at the harvest, and trust him with your sister. Everyone knew those things but these other, maybe small, but essential truths about who he is: the way the summer sunrise on the fields of corn would take his breath away, how music speaks to his very soul, how the first sight of a whale breaching the surface of the ocean so many years ago changed the direction of his life, no one had known. And now, Harry wonders, what will happen if he starts to tell them?

It is in this moment that he decides. He’s done hiding and he’s done lying and he’s done trying to be someone he’s not. He has a chance here and he’s going to take it. And not simply a chance to be honest about himself — he’s camouflaged himself for so long that he’s forgotten many of the secrets he was protecting, if he ever even knew them in the first place. This summer is his chance to start over, and, he decides, he is going to say _yes_ to everything that wouldn’t get him killed, or worse, jailed. This is going to be the summer of _telling the truth and saying yes._

He realizes Niall is still waiting for an answer to his question, and heart racing, takes a deep breath.

“I listen to all kinds of stuff, most of which wasn’t very popular back home,” he begins. “I love singer-songwriter stuff. I’ve never written music but I’ve always wanted to. I’d love to learn how.”

Niall gives Harry another one of those knowing looks, and a surprisingly gentle smile. “Well,” he says, “It’s your lucky day, then Harry, because I’ve been writing for a bunch of years, took a bunch of classes at Berklee too. Maybe I can teach you some things.”

Harry exhales as he smiles back, and laughs to himself. Maybe it really is his lucky day.

The moment is broken when Perrie yells up the stairs, “Guys! We’re gonna go out for dinner!” Harry hears her feet pounding up the stairs and she joins Harry in Niall’s doorway. “Maxxie and Alice had dinner at this awesome club a couple of nights ago, it’s just down the street! The booze is supposedly cheap, the food is good, and they have an amazing floor show, apparently! You boys in?”

Harry looks to Niall, who simply flashes a thumbs up, and says, “We’re in!”

The group heads out about a half hour later. Harry can’t stop looking around him in awe, eyes widening as he takes in the sights and the crowd, flushing as he notes the merchandise in the Toys of Eros store. Perrie nudges him with her hip. “Quit staring,” she mutters kindly out of the corner of her mouth, “You look like a tourist.”

Harry shrugs, and feels his face flush, though Perrie’s tone has no meanness, there is no cruel edge to the teasing. He says, “Well, I _am_ a tourist, aren’t I?”

Perrie laughs, “Nope. You may be a newcomer but you live here, at least for now.” She has no idea the impact her words have on him, and as he swallows, she clearly picks up on _something_ because she nudges him. “Hey, you okay? Still up for dinner, or are you tired?”

“No, I’m still up for it,” he says, “It’s just, yeah. It’s kind of a long story.”

Perrie grins and says, “Well, maybe over dinner, you can start telling it.”

When they get to the club, Harry can’t quite believe that this is an actual place that he is actually hanging out in. He’s never been to a nightclub before, and this surpasses his wildest imaginings. Simon’s is a long room, with a large bar off to the left. There is a stage at the end, flanked with double glass doors on either side that open out onto the back deck overlooking the harbor. There are a bunch of tables of varying sizes, a row of booths opposite the bar, and a small dance floor in front of the stage. There is a piano to the right below the stage, where a muscular, brown-haired man is currently improvising some light jazz. The lights are low, there are swaths of velvet on the walls, and many large, framed photos of beautiful, sultry women in stylized poses reminiscent of a 1940’s club.

The host introduces herself as Kylie and informs them that she will also be their server. “And that's Lexie on bar tonight, so between the two of us, we’ll take good care of you.” She’s a lovely women with long curly dark hair, a wide smile and a strong jawline. As she leads them to their table close to the stage, she asks cheerfully, “First time here, sweeties?”

Maxxie smiles, draping her arm around Alice’s shoulders as they follow her, “Yeah, we’re all interns at the CCS for the summer. Alice and I have been here about ten days, and we caught the show a few nights ago. Perrie and Laurie got in a few days ago, and Harry and Niall here just arrived today!”

The host smiles in delight, “Well, welcome to Simon’s! You’re in for a real treat! We’ve got an abbreviated cabaret show tonight and then Miss Lala and Lady Zanita for the main event. They’ll do an hour set, and then they’ll come and mingle with the crowd, not that there’ll be much of one tonight, of course, it’s so early in the season. I’ll make sure to tell them to come and say hello, and give you a real P-town welcome! I’ll be back in a mo’ to get your drink orders.”

As they get settled and place their orders, Harry starts to get to know his fellow interns. Laurie is a slender dark girl starting her senior year at Santa Cruz, hoping to go on to a graduate program in Marine Biology, and eventually to end up in Marin at the aquarium there. She shyly admits that her boyfriend Joe is going to be in Boston for the summer, interning a law firm, and she fully anticipates spending whatever days off she has with him at his apartment in Charlestown. Alice and Maxxie are partners in and out of the lab, both about to start their junior year at Duke. They are passionate about seal and whale conservation, and share openly about some of the challenges of being a lesbian couple in the South. Perrie is an avid film student, dedicated to ocean ecology, and is determined to make documentaries to save the environment. Harry, of course, sees the obvious theme amongst the students taking a low-paid internship on Cape Cod to support whale conservation. Perrie had grown up outside of Chicago, and when Harry mentions that he is from a small, _small_ town in Minnesota, she’d fixed a knowing eye on him. From their earlier conversation, Harry knows that Niall is about to start his junior year at BU, and is hoping to end up in a doctoral program with an eye towards eventually becoming a professor.

Finally, Perrie turns to Harry. “So,” she says, “Tell us, what’s your story?”

Harry feels suddenly shy and a little bit vulnerable. “Well,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his beer, “Like I said, I’m from Kerkhoven in Minnesota. It’s a tiny town about two and a half hours west of the Twin Cities. Like, _so_ small. All there is there is a grain elevator, a post office and general store, and Barb’s cafe. I graduated high school three years ago, and I’ve been working on my mom and dad’s farm. I guess I should say, they’re not technically my mom and dad, biologically, they’re my aunt and uncle. They raised me because my bio mom died when I was baby, and I never knew my dad. Since I graduated, I’ve been taking classes at the community college in Wilmar, which is the next big town, it’s about 20,000 people. But, I’m going to be starting at Brown as a junior. I’m transferring into their Bachelors of Science program in Marine Biology.” The faces around the table are impressed, and rightly so. It’s a fantastic program.

Alice asks, “So, how does a farm boy from Minnesota come to be an intern for a whale conservation organization in Provincetown, Massachusetts?” Her expression is so genuinely baffled that Harry barks out a loud laugh in spite of the apprehension he’s feeling talking about this.

“We came here to the Cape once when I was a kid, and I fell in love with it, the ocean, the dunes, everything. We did a whale watch and I just knew it was where I was meant to be. I mean, you guys know, right? They’re such incredible animals and there’s still so much to learn.”

Harry is thrilled to see nothing but enthusiasm and interest on the other interns’ faces, as well as complete understanding, and with that, another lock on his heart clicks open. He’d never really talked too much to his high school buddies about his love of whales, and he realizes that many of them may not even know that he’s left, or why. Oh wait, scratch that, once the story of his fight with his mom and dad comes out...his face falls with that thought, and he swallows, suddenly exhausted tired from his journey. He is hit, all at once, with the immense gulf between his past life and this new, present one. He glances down quickly, but the others go quiet, obviously noting that something is wrong.

“So, yeah. There’s another thing. I just had this big blow out with my mom and dad, before I left, and they, um…” his voice cracks, and he takes a deep breath, “They basically threw me out, so I can’t go back there. I’d already packed most of my stuff, so I just put the rest of it in the car and left, and here I am.” He tries to smile, but judging by the looks on the others’ faces, he isn’t doing a convincing job of it.

There is a pause, and then Alice says quietly, almost as if she already knows, “Why’d they throw you out, Harry?”

And here it is. This is the moment, where Harry can either keep lying, or he can honor the vow he made to himself earlier, to be honest about who he is. _Because,_ he thinks, _if this isn’t a safe place to do it, I don’t think I’ll ever find one._ The thing is, he’s never actually said the words, not even when Sue had confronted him with the evidence on the computer. She’d cried, “Do not lie to me, Harry. Is it true?” All he’d said was, “It’s true, Mom.” But now, he has to say the words. It’s time to tell the truth. Heart jackhammering in his chest, Harry opens his mouth.

“They threw me out because they found out I’m gay.”

Harry hears a sharp intake of breath behind him, but can’t track the source as Perrie leans over and immediately wraps him in a hug, while Niall lays a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and simply squeezes. Alice’s face crumples, Maxxie looks furious and Laurie just shakes her head and mutters, “That totally sucks, dude. That’s just so fucking wrong.”

She sounds furious on his behalf, and Harry can’t help but feel shocked that people who were, until a couple of hours ago, complete strangers to him, could be so immediately and wholeheartedly on his side. Amidst the confusion, Kylie sets down their food, and walks away, disappearing up the stairs onto the stage and then to the backstage area.

Finally, Niall gives his shoulder one more firm squeeze that Harry feels down to his bones and sighs. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I don’t even really know what to say. I know we all just met and everything, but I don’t think I’m speaking out of turn here. We’ve got your back, man.”

A murmur of agreement that runs around the table, and then Niall pulls his hand away from Harry’s shoulder, and holds it out over the center of the table and looks around. “All for one?”

“And one for all!” the others chorus as, one by one, they lay their hands on top of Niall’s, until at last, Harry piles his own on top. He can barely speak, his throat thick with emotion as he whispers, “All for one.”

“And now, I think what we need is…” Niall glances around the table for confirmation as he continues, “ _shots_!” There is a cheer of agreement, and Harry gives a weak smile.

“I’m in, Niall.” He looks around the table and says, “I’ve never actually...I haven’t ever said those words before, and I never thought…” his voice trails off, “I can’t even tell you how much it means to me.”

Alice and Maxxie exchange glances as Alice leans over and presses her hand onto Harry’s. “We know, Harry. We do.”

For the next hour or so, they drink a few shots and eat their dinner (which is surprisingly good, big bowls of clam chowder, fresh salads, and fries that Niall claims make him see god). As they eat and talk, there is an exuberant cabaret act with a chorus line going on up on stage. Harry keeps getting distracted by the action on stage, he’s always loved live theater, the few times he’s gotten to see it, and these performers are surprisingly great for a small town club, and entirely unlike any live show he’s ever been to.

Then, as their dishes are cleared away, and they order another round of drinks, the lights drop down lower, and the ambient chatter in the room stills to an anticipatory hush in the dark. There is a moment of movement on stage, and then the spotlight blazes up again. The audience bursts into applause as the piano starts up, two figures in dazzling sequined dresses moving into the light, and Harry bursts out laughing as he recognizes the tune.

The figure in the black dress steps forward and grabs the mike as she shimmies around and begins to sing, “I got chills…they’re multiplyin’…and I’m losin’ control,” and Harry’s jaw drops. He isn’t sure if this is Miss Lala or Lady Zanita, but…he turns and stares at Perrie.

“That’s…that’s… _Perrie,_ that’s a man!” he hisses, turning back to the stage in fascination.

Perrie stares back at him and then bursts out laughing. “Uh, Harry? That’s the act! It’s a drag show tonight.” Shaking her head in amusement, she turns back to the stage.

When the song ends, the audience erupts into cheers, and the two…Harry isn’t really sure what the right noun should be. The two performers, he decides on, both grin and wave, and the one in the black dress starts talking.

“Good evening, my sweeties!” The audience laughs, and the performer continues, “Welcome to Simon’s, the _best_ club in the _best_ town in Massachusetts! I’m Miss Lala, and here onstage with me is my _adorable_ partner in crime, the lovely Lady Zanita!” Here he? She? Harry gives up trying to figure it out and goes with she, because the performer is dressed like a she. In any case, she gives an exaggerated wink to the audience, “Isn’t she gorgeous, folks?!” _Ahh, okay, “she” it is._ The crowd applauds wildly, and Harry glances around, realizing the place, while not packed, has a healthy audience.

Miss Lala continues, “We’ve got a fabulous show for you tonight, mes cornichons chéris. Since it’s so early in the season, we’ll only be doing one set tonight, so y’all will have to come back again for more singing. After that, we’ll come out say hello. So, sit back, put your arm around your special someone, and if you don’t have a special someone…” here she winks again, “Well, I’ll be available for a drink after the show, sweeties, so enjoy it!”

Throughout the rest of the show, Harry finds himself unable to take his eyes off of Miss Lala. While technically, Lady Zanita has the better voice, there is something about Lala that is just captivating. The two singers make their way through a variety of duets, their voices weaving together and blending beautifully. Lala takes the lead on the patter between songs, though Lady Z occasionally inserts comments that demonstrate a dry and perceptive wit.

“And now, mes petits oignons,” Lala says, “as we begin our final song of the evening, we must say a huge thank you to our amazing pianist, Mr. Liam! Please, put your hands together for him, he’s incredible!”

The audience applauds and whistles enthusiastically as the performers exchange a whispered comment or two and then the poignant opening notes sound from the piano. Harry can see the smile on the handsome face of the piano player as he grins up at Miss Lala, who offers a sweet smile in return. Chills spread out over his skin as he recognizes the song. Several years earlier, Harry had been, as he’d considered it, completely blessed to see the touring cast of Phantom of the Opera in Minneapolis, and he had fallen in love with the music. He’d had to listen to it clandestinely, as straight boys in his high school didn’t listen to showtunes, but he’d been mesmerized, and his love of musicals had only blossomed.

He feels his eyes well up as Lady Zanita’s glorious voice soars over the words. “All I want is freedom, a world with no more night…” he remembers singing those very same words as he drove along the flat highways of Swift County, more times than he could count. As he stares at the two performers, his heart fuller than he could ever have imagined, he suddenly locks eyes with Miss Lala as she sings “Share each day with me each night, each morning.” Miss Lala’s eyes widen, and the emotion in her voice deepens as they gaze at each other, tears shimmering in Harry’s eyes.

“Anywhere you go let, me go too. Love me, that’s all I ask of you.”

The two voices soar, hanging in the air, and finally drift away. Harry sits in stunned silence. He’s never seen such beautiful people as these performers and has only heard live music like this once or twice in his lifetime. He can feel Perrie’s gaze on him as he glances around the room. Applause rings out throughout the audience and Miss Lala and Lady Z take bow after bow, blowing kisses to the crowd and mouthing their thanks as they back off the stage together.

Harry looks over at his housemates, where Alice and Maxxie are curled around one another, Niall and Perrie are deep in conversation and Laurie is…nowhere to be found. Perrie looks up, “Laurie headed out about 10 minutes ago, she wanted to call Joe before it got too late. I think we’ll be heading back too, you wanna come?”

Harry considers. He is tired from the drive, but he doesn’t start work for a few more days, so he has time to recover. He’s exhausted from the emotion of the evening, but not quite ready to go home. This is his first time actually being in the world as an _out_ gay man, and he wants to savor it a bit. Fuck, it hits him. He’s out now.

“No, I think I’ll have one more drink at the bar.” Niall gives him an understanding look and stands up to pull him into a quick hug. “Okay, mate, we’ll see you back at the house - if not tonight, then tomorrow.”

Harry watches his new housemates leave, and turns to walk towards the bar. Movement on the stage catches his eye, and he looks up. Lady Z has walked across the stage and is making her way down the stairs and over to the piano where she shares a, _whoa_ , quick but passionate kiss with the piano player. Harry has never seen two men kiss before in real life, and he can’t pull his gaze away, no matter how rude he knows he’s being. His heart races, whether from excitement, envy or arousal, he really couldn’t say, but he also can’t help his flush of anxiety. No one else in the room seems to bat an eye, and he supposes that if there’s any place in the United States where it is safe for two men to kiss in public, Provincetown has to be at the top of the list, but old habits die hard. As he heads to the bar, he wonders if Miss Lala will be out soon, and, as if summoned by his thoughts, she appears on the stage. She pauses at the top of the stairs, seemingly well-aware of the impact of her slender curves clad in sparkling sequins, and then makes her way down into the crowd. As she scans over the people, Harry gets the impression that she is looking for someone.

Harry manages to wedge himself in amongst the other revelers down at the end of the bar closest to the stage, and resigns himself to a long wait, when a sudden scent of hairspray and cologne strikes his nose, and he turns to look at the person squeezing in next to him. He sees beautiful blue eyes framed by killer liner and sweeping lashes, tumbling curls and a gorgeous mouth painted perfectly in plum. The man standing next to him is compact and curvy, his slim body encased in a gorgeous low-cut sequined gown that shimmers under the stage lights. Harry feels a bit light-headed for a moment, struck again with a sharp sense of something almost like melancholy as he notes the stark contrast between his prior life and his present.

The man, and for all the wig, makeup, and exuberant bosom, he is most definitely a man, doesn’t appear to notice Harry at first as he waves at Lexie behind the bar. “I’m parched, sweetie, please! Take pity on a poor working girl!” He suddenly seems to recognize that he has effectively cut right in front of Harry and adds, “And, err, whatever tall, dark and handsome wants as well!” He throws Harry an exaggerated wink, much like he had done on-stage, and then does a double-take and freezes, their eyes meeting again just as they had during the last song.

The piercing blue eyes narrow, and then the man says, “I saw you, you were at the six-top in the front row, weren’t you, sweetie?” Harry thinks wistfully that even though this man seems to call everyone sweetie, there’s something about it that feels...nice. “You looked a bit overcome during that last one, were you okay?” Harry feels his cheeks flush under the cheerful scrutiny of the man in front of him, and can’t remember a time when he’s ever felt more awkward.

“I…er, yeah, I suppose. I just…I love that song, it…” his voice cracks and trails off as he curses his own lack of cool, “that one just means a lot to me, you know?”

To his relief, the singer nods. “It’s one of my favorites, I love performing it. I’m glad it moved you. To be honest, I’m never sure how closely anyone actually listens to the songs, you know?”

“You were amazing, both you and Lady Zanita! I’ve never seen anything like you…I mean…” Harry’s voice trails off as the smaller man throws his head back and laughs, unable to take his eyes off the cut of the man’s jaw.

“What, you’ve never seen such beautiful queens? Been to such a lovely club?”

“I’ve never seen _any_ queens,” Harry answers honestly, “or been to any clubs really at all, unless you count the VFW.”

The man stares at him open-mouthed. “Now, _that_ sounds like a story I want to hear. Are you with friends, or can I buy you a drink and you can tell me about it?”

“Oh,” Harry says, heart pounding, “My friends just left, but I wasn’t quite ready to head home. I just got into town today…”

“Well, you look like a gentleman who could use a cosmopolitan, and Lexie here makes a fabulous one, don’t you sweetie?” The bartender winks at them both as she slides two drinks across the counter and waves away Harry’s money.

“I’ll just put it on this one’s tab,” she says, rolling her eyes as she turns away with a grin.

Miss Lala picks up the drinks, turns to Harry, and raising one perfectly groomed eyebrow, says, “Shall we?” and indicates a small-two top tucked off to the side of the stage.

They approach the table, and without thinking, Harry pulls out a chair for Miss Lala, who gives him a crinkly-eyed smile, sparkling in the dim light of the club. “Oh my, lovely manners! So, what should I call you?”

“I’m Harry, Harry Styles. And, err, what should I call you?”

Miss Lala smiles again. “Well, that _is_ a question, isn’t it. Normally I’d say, since I’m on tonight, that you can call me Miss Lala, but...there’s something about you, Harry Styles, that I’m finding very...interesting. So, you may call me Louis, that’s my name. Louis Tomlinson.”

Feeling like perhaps he’s been handed the key to something rare and precious, Harry smiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Louis Tomlinson.”

As the two men chat about the show and Harry’s housemates, Harry reminds himself, this is his summer to tell the truth. So, when Louis smiles and says, “Tell me more about this life of yours that’s denied you the presence of glorious queens, Harry! I can’t even imagine such a thing,” Harry thinks, _here goes._

“Well,” Harry takes a deep breath. “I’m from a very small, very conservative town in Minnesota, and my aunt and uncle are pretty religious. It’s a sect of evangelical fundamental Christianity that’s really homophobic, so...yeah, no queens for us.” Louis simply sits in silence, somehow conveying warmth and interest with a quirk of his eyebrow. At this point, Harry has to admit, he is feeling a bit tipsy, which leads to perhaps more honesty than he might have offered if he’d been totally sober.

“So, it’s like, I always knew I was gay, but I couldn’t tell anyone, _ever,_ you know?” Somehow, saying the words the second time is helping them to come out marginally more easily, though his heart is still pounding. “So I...I just hid, my whole life, until today. I’ve never even said the words until about 3 hours ago. I’m gay. _I’m gay.”_ His throat closes for a second and he takes a deep breath. “I feel like today is the first day of my new life, kind of. Is that dumb?”

Louis shakes his head, gives Harry a small smile and murmurs, “No, it’s not. It’s really not. How did you hide?”

“Oh, you know,” Harry notes that he is waving his hands expansively at this point. “By being the most perfect guy, getting good grades, football, girls, the whole thing. And I didn’t,” here he scoots his chair a bit closer to Louis so he can place an earnest hand on Louis' thigh, “I didn’t hate every moment of it. Football was okay, and I never got concussed so that was good. But I wasn’t good enough to get a scholarship for college, so I was kind of stuck. Anyway, I love reading and learning, I just could never let them know how much.” He gives a sudden, bitter laugh. “Couldn’t be a nerd, don’t you know.”

It occurs to him that he’s drunker than he’d initially thought and then it hits him, he’s still clutching Louis' muscular thigh through the sequinned dress. He’s touching another man. On the leg. In public. A man that he’s just come out to who is probably _not_ going to punch him in the face but he can’t help the flash of panic he feels, and quickly pulls his hand back in his own lap.

“And the girls?”

Harry shrugs and pulls a face that attempts to convey how complicated and weird the topic is, but he suspects only makes him look a bit constipated, judging from the laughter in Louis' eyes.

“Enh. Thankfully everyone was religious, you know? So we were all,” here he quirks his fingers into scare quotes, “‘saving ourselves for marriage’. They just all thought I was super-respectful, and they couldn't even tell that I really didn’t even get hard when we fooled around.” He stops suddenly and flushes, realizing that the last drink has hit him hard. “I think I may be a little bit intoxicated, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis just stares at him in fascination, “Holy shit, Harry, I can’t even imagine. So, what the hell happened, how’d you end up here?” His tone has shifted, from the more flamboyant presentation of Miss Lala to something softer and more grounded. More genuine.

Harry is too involved in his story to wonder how Louis knows that something has happened, and gives a rueful grin to mask the break in his heart. “I got careless last week, one of the only times I’ve ever had access to the computer when I was alone in the house, and I forgot to watch my porn in the incognito browser. My mom checked the history and….err, figured it out from there.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. She blew up, called my dad in from the back forty, called Luke in — that’s my brother — and read me the riot act. She told me that as long as I was pursuing my sinful lifestyle, that I couldn’t stay under her roof. I was about packed up for coming here anyway, so I just...finished the next day and left early. I took the long way here, just taking it slow. I was kind of in shock, I guess. I got a couple of texts from Luke, but I just couldn’t talk to him. And then, you know, they shut off my phone.”

“Wow.” Louis looks a little overwhelmed. “Holy shit, wait, so this just happened like, last week? You just got into town today?”

Harry glances down at the table and nods, suddenly exhausted.

“Harry, I was right. You’re…” Louis' voice trails off, and then he shakes himself. “You’re amazing, I can see that already. So you’re telling me that you got thrown out of your home, you drove, what, 1500 miles? You came out for the first time today, and now you’re sitting here just calmly having a drink with me?”

“Well.” Harry considers. “I don’t think I’m that calm, really. And it’s 1600 miles.” He smiles weakly.

Louis looks at him more closely. “You actually look exhausted, man. Can you wait for a moment? I’m gonna get out of costume and makeup, and I’ll walk you home, okay? Are you staying near here?”

Too tired to say anything, Harry just nods. Louis flags down Kylie and orders him a cup of coffee, “just to perk you up enough to walk home,” and heads to the back. While Harry sips his coffee, black because that’s how farmers drink their coffee, he feels...empty, he realizes. It isn’t a bad feeling really, it’s just a quiet place to be in his head, almost like he’s waiting for something.

Ten minutes later, Louis emerges from behind the curtain. He is wearing casual joggers and a vintage band t-shirt, and he’s clearly given his face at best a cursory wipedown. It’s hard to get a real sense of what he might look like without the full makeup, but Harry has a feeling he’ll be drop-dead gorgeous either way. Louis makes a face when he sees Harry’s black coffee.

“Ugh, I could never drink it black, myself. I’m a cappuccino kind of guy.”

Harry stares at him and gives a helpless laugh. “How sad is this, I don’t even know if that’s how I like it, I just drink it black because that’s what men do.”

As Louis casually places a hand to Harry’s lower back to guide him towards the exit, he says carefully, “Well, maybe this summer you can figure out what kind of coffee you like. I highly recommend the mochas at Lewis’s, they’re to die for.”

Harry feels an unfamiliar thrill go through him at the placement of Louis' hand, suddenly hyper-aware of every nerve ending in his lumbar region. He tells Louis the address of the intern house, and Louis steers him in the right direction, asking Harry more questions as they walk. Even though his hand had dropped away from Harry’s body as soon as they were outside the club, Harry can still feel the phantom pressure on his skin from where Louis had touched him.

“So, yeah. I spent the last three years mostly just working a ton and going to school, so I could apply to four-year universities and get out of there. When I got into Brown, it was just…” Harry’s words fail him as he relives that moment where he’d disbelievingly read the letter that started with, “Dear Mr. Styles, Welcome to Brown University!”

“Wait,” Louis interrupts him, “what do you mean, got into Brown?

Harry realizes that his long term plans haven’t come up in their conversation so far. “Um,” he says shyly, “I got into Brown’s bachelor of science program as a transfer, to concentrate in Marine Biology. I’ll be here until late August, and then I’m going directly to Providence. I’ve already got a work study assignment with two of the professors there.” Louis is staring at him in amazement and...something else, that Harry can’t quite read.

“It was just so incredible, you know? It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I never even imagined I could get into a place like Brown. And then when I got this internship, well, yeah. It was a dream come true. I’ve never ever seen anything like this town, and it’s amazing. I just feel so…free.”

At that, Louis nods, and mutters in a tone of annoyance, “Yeah, though it can be an awfully small town too.”

“But, enough about me,” Harry says bashfully, “What about you? I mean, you’re such an amazing singer, you must, like be famous and stuff!” He immediately wants to smack himself, repeatedly. _Famous and stuff, Jesus Christ._

At that, Louis actually snorts and then bursts out laughing, “Oh goodness, aren’t you lovely! No, no, I’m not famous. I’m in school too. I graduated from NYU about two weeks ago, and I’m going to grad school in the Fall for acting and directing.” He cast a glance sideways at Harry. “It’s a combined MFA program that happens to be at Brown. So, I’ll be moving to Providence at the end of the summer as well.”

“What?” Harry can’t believe this. He knows he’s just met Louis, but he doesn’t think he’s imagining the immediate connection he already senses, and now they’re going to be at the same school in the fall? It feels...almost too good to be true. It feels almost like fate. He’s feeling lighter and farther away from Minnesota by the minute. “You’re going to be in Providence too? That’s crazy, Louis!”

Louis grins and shrugs at the same time, and unknowingly echoes Harry’s thoughts. “Well, I am a big believer in fate, Harry, you’ll find out that most of us in the theater are.”

“So, acting and directing? Is that what you want to do? Both of them?” Harry can’t help asking. The idea that someone could make a living, build a _life_ in something like the theater has never occurred to him. His parents were skeptical enough at the idea of him going into marine biology, instead of doing something practical like being a mechanic or a farmer.

Louis pauses and thinks for a moment. “Honestly? I’d just love to make a living, but that’s really tough to do. I figure at least with this MFA, it’ll help me make connections, give me all kinds of practical experience.” He shakes off his serious tone, “In any case, I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent bartender as well. You’ll have to come by some night when I’m on bar, I’ll make you the best damn manhattan you’ve ever had!” Since Harry has never had a manhattan in his life, good or otherwise, he figures it won’t be too difficult to impress him, but decides against mentioning this to Louis, feeling so far out of his element already.

“That sounds great.” Harry can’t help the thrill he feels at the casual invitation. He knows that in all likelihood, Louis is just being polite, as he seems like the outgoing and sociable sort, but even so. Louis is by far the most interesting (and _gorgeous,_ his subconscious helpfully contributes) man he’s ever met. He realizes that Louis is still talking, and listens more closely.

As the conversation continues, Harry becomes more and more aware that while for Louis, this is probably an ordinary exchange, for him, it is the most exciting interaction he’s ever had with another gay man. _And that,_ he thinks to himself, _is just a bit pathetic, Styles._ _Yes_ , he reminds himself. _You have to start somewhere. This is the summer of Yes._

Far too soon for Harry’s liking, they reach the door to his new home. The outside light is on, but he can see that the upstairs windows are dark, and a quick glance at his phone confirms that it is late, almost 1:00 in the morning.

“Well,” Harry says awkwardly, “This is it.”

Louis examines the shabby house, and nods. “It looks like the perfect place for a bunch of interns to live. When do you start, anyway?”

“I’m gonna go out on some whale watches this weekend, I think. I’ve got orientation on Monday, and then we’ll work out my summer schedule.”

“Well, you’re in luck, man, I’m behind the stick for a couple of hours tomorrow night, subbing in for Lexie. Come in around 6 for a drink, we’ll treat you right.”

Dazzled by the beautiful man in front him, Harry can only nod and say, “That sounds great, Louis. Um, thanks.”

Louis gives him a quizzical look and then shakes his head. “Don’t thank me, I’m looking forward to it.”

As Harry makes his way through the dark and silent house and up the stairs to his new home, he can’t quite believe the events of the last several hours. He’s getting settled into his new space, making friends and plans, and now he’s met the hottest guy he’s ever seen who also happens to be an out, gay man. He stares at himself in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, marveling that everything on the outside still looks the same, when he feels so different on the inside. Minnesota feels very, very far away.

**June 2nd**

By the following afternoon, Harry thinks it’s possible that he has never actually been happier in his life. He’s always wondered how, in those post-apocalypse movies, people could move on so quickly after something catastrophic happens, but he thinks now he understands it a bit better. He’s fully aware that something really big and bad has happened, but he’s also...free for the first time in his life. Perhaps putting it away in the darker corners of his mind isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, he admits, but it’s what he has available at the moment. And, now that he is actually here in Provincetown, he is determined to savor every moment of it.

“I’m going to savor every fucking moment of this summer, Niall,” he says seriously, licking up the drip of black raspberry ice cream that is currently sliding down his wrist.

“I know, mate. That’s what you said at the art gallery. And the sex toy store. And at the Town Hall where they had the public bathrooms.”

“This is the best fucking ice cream I’ve ever had in my life.”

Niall sighs patiently, and pats Harry affectionately on the shoulder. “I know, mate, you’ve said that too.”

By 6:00 that evening, Harry feels like he might be about to explode, whether from excitement or ice cream or anxiety, he isn’t entirely sure. He and Niall had gone back to the house in the afternoon, where Harry had a shower before heading over to Simon’s. He’s talked Niall into coming back with him for a drink, but the other man has plans to meet with a college buddy for dinner at 7, so he isn’t going to be sticking around. As they approach the bar, Louis is coming through the doorway from the back storeroom, a case of beer resting on his shoulder, and Harry’s eyes are drawn helplessly to the bulge of his bicep. Louis’ eyes seem to light up when he sees them, and he looks curiously from Harry to Niall.

“Harry! Good to see you, man!”

Harry feels his stomach drop just the slightest at the casual greeting, but shrugs it off. Louis had seemed nice, really nice, not to mention sincere and funny last night, and making a new friend, especially one who’ll be heading to Providence at the same time that he is, can only be positive. Right? Right. Just because Harry might also be interested in pressing Louis up against a wall and kissing him senseless, that shouldn’t get in the way of being friends.

“Hey, um, Louis. This is my housemate, and fellow intern, Niall. Niall, this is Louis.” He looks more closely at Louis, who is dressed much more casually tonight. He’s wearing skin-tight jeans with strategic rips in them, and an almost sheer black t-shirt with a neckline that swoops down, offering a tantalizing glimpse of an intricate tattoo just under his clavicle. With a bit of a shock, Harry realizes that Louis must have covered the artwork with body makeup for his show the night before, because, while he’d been tipsy, he knows he would have remembered the piece. As Louis leans over the bar to shake Niall’s hand, Harry notices that he is wearing a dark eyeliner with a slight glint to it, that highlights the deep blue of his eyes.

“I, um, I like your eyeliner,” he blurts out, and then flushes in embarrassment. _I like your eyeliner? I LIKE YOUR EYELINER?_

Niall nudges him and whispers, clearly amused, “Lock it down, Styles, you’re okay.”

Louis just grins. “Thanks, man. I go for a more, you know, subtle look when I’m on bar.”

“Oh,” Harry says, attempting nonchalance and failing miserably, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Harry, you saw your first guy in drag less than 24 hours ago. I don’t think you’re really qualified to have opinions on men’s makeup just yet.”

“Heyyy” Harry drawls, not in the slightest bit offended, and when he grins at Louis, conceding the point, he has the sensation that something interesting has begun.

He and Niall get their drinks, and make their way down to a couple of empty stools at the end of the bar as a crowd of about ten or twelve older women come and swarm Louis, laughing and chattering loudly as they demand drinks from him.

“So,” Niall says after a moment, “That’s Louis, huh?”

Harry flushes and says only, “Yeah. That’s him.”

Niall sips his beer and eyes the commotion, where Louis is grinning and chatting as he mixes cocktails, and then turns to fix a knowing gaze on Harry. “He’s really hot,” he says calmly and Harry chokes on his beer, not used to living in a world where such things can be said aloud.

“Niall,” he exclaims as he catches his breath, “Jesus, I just met the guy.”

“Well,” Niall shrugs, laughing, “I mean, I know you’re new to this whole gay thing, and I’m not gay but I’m also not blind, so I just figured, in case you were second-guessing yourself. You’re not wrong, he’s really cute.”

“I never said he was cute,” Harry protests.

“Oh Harry, you didn’t have to say it. Your face said it all for you.”

Harry groans in embarrassment and mutters, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Niall glances at his watch and curses, “Shit, yeah, I gotta go. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” And grabbing his jacket, he heads out the door.

After Louis gets off of his bartending shift, he wanders over to where Harry is sitting, nursing the manhattan that Louis had handed to him without bothering to ask if that was what he wanted. It is, Harry has to admit, delicious.

“You want to get out of here? Go grab some food?” Louis asks.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Where’s your friend? Niall? Where’d he go?” Louis asks casually.

“He’s got some buddy from college who grew up in Truro, so they’re meeting for dinner at some French place?”

“Oh, probably PB Boulangerie.” Harry feels himself grow a little faint at the perfect, well, perfect to him, French accent that Louis puts on the words, and wonders just how strong that drink had been. “That place is fantastic, so authentic!”

“Do you, um, speak French?” Harry asks, as he stands up. He moves to grab his glass, but Louis gets there first, and walks it over to the bar to hand it to Lexie with a murmured thanks.

He turns back to Harry and says, “Yeah, I do, actually. I spent my junior year in Paris.”

Harry’s eyes almost fall out of his head as he pictures Louis in a beret, sitting in a cafe, drinking wine and speaking French. It’s a potent image and he feels a tad breathless. “Wow, that’s incredible. I’ve never, you know, gone anywhere really.”

Louis just smiles gently at him. “It’s just the beginning for you, Harry. You can go anywhere you want.”

At that, Harry’s stomach twists in that way that he’s beginning to recognize as part terror, part anticipation, and part grief. He determinedly ignores the sensation, and follows Louis out of the club towards dinner.

Over dinner, Harry’s first time trying Thai food, the conversation flows easily between the two men. Topics range from music to movies to books to gender identity, with Harry awkwardly wondering if Louis is trans. He’s not even sure how to ask the question really, knowing only the little he’s read on the internet.

Louis thoughtfully slurps down a noodle and takes a sip from his beer. “Nah,” he says finally, “I’m definitely not trans. I mean, I feel like a guy, you know? Like how I feel on the inside matches the body I have. Having a dick is something I really enjoy.” At this, Harry turns bright red and chokes on his tofu. “Easy there, Styles,” Louis smirks. “It’s like, I am definitely a guy, but there’s something about getting into makeup and a gorgeous gown that’s just so damn fun. I love channeling that part of me. I also happen to think that everyone has masculine and feminine parts to them. So I’m a man who happens to love getting dressed up and putting on makeup. It’s probably why I’m in the theater, to be honest.”

At this, Harry feels even more overwhelmed. He tries to imagine ever having this kind of discussion with any of his friends home, and realizes that Louis is saying things he’s never imagined or thought about. Then, there’s also the fact that Louis mentioned his dick. That statement is bringing images to Harry’s mind that are leaving him feeling a bit lightheaded. With some effort, he brings his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“I feel like there are different energies. So, when I’m Miss Lala, I can bring that part of myself out. I’d guess, most likely, I’m not totally cis either, but mostly I’m just me. I’m not too concerned about the label, honestly.”

Harry can’t help himself. “But, aren’t you worried about what people think? Like, that people might think you’re trans?”

Louis stares, and Harry has the feeling that Louis is a bit disappointed in him. He says slowly, “Of course I’m not worried. I mean, I know who I am, that’s all that really matters. And, since I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being trans, it doesn’t bother me at all if someone thinks that about me. And in any case, how I self-identify really isn’t anyone else’s business.”

Harry flushes and begins to apologize, and Louis cuts him off.

“No, it’s okay, Harry. I know you haven't…” his voice trails off as if he’s trying to figure out how to word his thoughts. “You haven’t hung out with anyone who’s part of the queer community before, and I’m not offended, believe me. I want you to ask me questions, anything. It’s okay. And generally, if you’re not sure what someone wants to be called, or what pronouns they want, just ask them. But beyond that, it’s not really your business, you know?”

Harry gazes at him, feeling his mind being blown away, right here and right now, in this dingy little Thai restaurant. “I’ve never...I never thought about it that way,” he finally replies slowly.

“Well, I did go to NYU, Harry. Happened to minor in Gender and Sexuality too. So, like, I’ve studied this a ton.”

Harry laughs ruefully, feeling suddenly very young and inexperienced. “I’m pretty sure Riverside Community College didn’t even have a single course in gender or sexuality.”

Louis smiles at Harry and gives his hand a quick pat, leaving sparks skittering under Harry’s skin in the wake of his touch. Louis continues, “And anyway, it’s why I’ve chosen, when I’ve had the choice, to be in places where people are cooler with it, Manhattan, P-town. I know I’m incredibly privileged to have had that option. I’ve never been to the midwest, but I kinda get the sense that Miss Lala wouldn’t be all that welcome in that cafe you mentioned.”

Harry tries to picture Miss Lala waltzing into Barb’s, and chokes a bit. “Yeah, that’s kind of an understatement, Louis. I couldn’t even get a vegetarian sandwich there.” He begins to smile as he recalls the day he’d tried. “Yeah, so this one time, I went in after football, and I was like, ‘can I get a veggie sandwich?’ and Cheryl, who was working there, was like, “A what?” And I said, ‘You know, like a sandwich, with just veggies on it?’ And,” Harry’s laughter is now bubbling uncontrollably out of him and Louis is already smiling along in anticipation of whatever the joke is to come, “she says, ‘The veg of the day is peas and carrots, Har, I could put that on a bun for you?’”

Louis shouts with laughter, and Harry thinks somewhere in the corner of his mind that Louis laughing is one of the most intoxicating sights he had ever seen.

Then Louis' faces stills. “For real, Harry,” he says, “What do you think would have happened, if you had come out, back home?”

Harry’s stomach drops. “You mean, other than what did happen, which was my parents kicking me out and my brother turning his back on me? I would have had the shit kicked out of me as well. It’s not like I was the only gay kid in town. I just managed to hide it better than the others.” He presses his lips together, willing away the emotion that rises with the memories, unwanted and unbidden.

Louis just shakes his head and doesn’t press, reading the obvious distress on Harry’s face, and moves the conversation back to lighter topics. As they talk, though, Harry can’t help feeling as if maybe there is some part of him that’s still stuck in that small town, terrified to let someone see who he truly is.

At the end of the meal, Louis pulls Harry into a gently one armed hug, insisting on paying, saying, “I’m honored to be the one to provide you with your first Thai food experience!” As they wander towards their respective homes, Harry goes over the discussion they’ve had in his mind. How many new thoughts, new ideas has he just had over dinner, simply because of Louis’ conversation. He wonders a bit about what other firsts might lie ahead, some he can imagine and hope for, and some, he knows, he can’t even begin to predict.

**June 4th**

Harry pauses outside the doors to Simon’s, feeling off-kilter. He can’t believe it’s only Saturday, that he’s been in Provincetown only 4 days. It feels like a lifetime ago that he was getting into his car in Minnesota, and he guess in some ways, it really was. Is it possible to draw such a stark line between the past and the present?

Yesterday had been a slow day. Niall had been off at the office, training, and Harry had been left to his own devices, which had included playing guitar, going grocery shopping so he could make spaghetti and meatballs for his housemates, and, apparently, wanking in the shower while thinking about his friend, _his gorgeous, new, bartender, performer friend._ It’s not that Harry’s never had a crush before. He’s certainly known the spark of desire, the breathless feeling when that someone sits next to you, or smiles at you. But, he’s never known this with someone where something could actually happen, without the threat of tragedy hanging over him. Because, Harry has to acknowledge, tragedy has come to him, hasn’t it? And, while his heart has been broken, there’s also something freeing about being abandoned by his past, like all possibilities are on the table now. And is it possible that one of those could be Louis?

Today he’d had his first Whale Watch cruise orientation, and he’d been absolutely entranced with the experience. He hadn’t done any of the work, of course, and he’d left feeling both incredibly excited and more than a little overwhelmed with how much he had to learn. Perrie had assured him he’d pick it up quickly, and Niall had just laughed when he’d expressed his concerns and said, “Mate, I got corrected by a six year old yesterday about what we were looking at, and the kid was right!”

Harry’s stomach had eased at that, and he’d had a sudden flash of insight. He’s spent his entire life making sure that he never gave anyone any reason to pay attention to him, to look more closely, terrified that they might really see him. Here, he feels like maybe he’s been given permission not to be Harry Styles, Kerkhoven’s perfect, golden boy. Maybe he can just be….Harry. Whoever that is. And maybe, it’s finally safe to let other people find that out too.

In any case, Louis had mentioned that he was working tonight on bar. “Once we get later into the season, our regular schedules will be finalized, but it’s all over the place for now. You should come by for a drink.”

Harry hadn’t been able to talk anyone else into coming out with him. Alice and Maxxie were both on early Whale Watch rotation the next morning, Laurie was off in Cambridge, and Perrie and Niall had been out that day on rough waters, and were not feeling all that well. They were going to hang out and watch movies, and Harry figured maybe he’d join them if he got home early enough. But for now, he thinks, _there’s no reason a guy can’t just, you know, walk into a club and have a drink._

No reason at all.

Harry is jostled out of his reverie by a group of five or six men brushing past him to open the door to Simon’s. One, a tall, lanky guy with fabulously sculpted hair and an easy grin holds the door for him and quirks one eyebrow. “Coming in?” He asks as he gives Harry a blatant once-over, eyes traveling down to his toes and back up.

Harry flushes, and then reminds himself, _yes._ “Yeah, sorry! Just got..a bit lost in my thoughts.”

The other man gives a small smile and murmurs, “Well, they do look like they might be an interesting place to be.” He gestures Harry through the door ahead of him, and Harry walks self-consciously into the club. As his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting of the room, he looks immediately to find Louis, and sees that even this early, there’s a bit of a crowd around the bar. His stomach falls a bit, and he reminds himself that Louis is _working,_ for god’s sake. He hears the man next to him say something, and turns in surprise.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The man smiles again, and Harry has to admit, he does have a lovely smile. “I was just asking, are you new in P-town?”

Harry gives a rueful grin as they wander closer to the bar. “Is it that obvious? Yeah, I got here on Wednesday. I’m spending the summer interning for the Center for Coastal Studies.”

The other man nods, “Well, welcome, I’m Nick. I’m a DJ for WOMR, I’m on in the mornings.” He holds a hand out, and Harry shakes it.

“Oh, I’m Harry.”

Then Harry hears a shout from behind the bar. “Oi oi! Nick! What are you doing out and about? Aren’t you worried about turning into a pumpkin?”

The man, Nick, turns away from Harry and grins full-out in response. He moves forward, claiming some open space in front of Louis. “Hey now, Tomlinson. I didn’t come here to be insulted. I came in for a drink, sugar. Besides, I run the week _day_ morning show, you know that, asshole.”

Of course, Harry thinks to himself, of course these two men know each other. Louis probably knows everyone, working here as he does, and being, well, how he is. Harry’s eyes are drawn helplessly to Louis' smiling face, and he thinks hopefully, that maybe Louis' eyes brighten just a bit when he sees him standing awkwardly next to Nick.

“Harry!” Harry tells himself he’s not imagining the touch of fondness that colors Louis' voice as he calls out to him. Then Harry notices that something shifts in Louis’ eyes as he realizes that Harry’s not just standing near Nick, but clearly next to him as if they're together, and Harry realizes he wasn’t imagining the fondness, because it’s gone as Louis says, “Oh, didn’t realize you’d met this one, Harry.”

Harry is hit with a flash of confusion, but then just says “Nick held the door for me. We were just chatting.” He can see out of the corner of his eye that Nick is glancing from him to Louis, with a small smirk playing about the corners of his mouth.

Louis turns back to Nick. “And where’s your band of merry men, Grimshaw? I don’t usually see you here without them.” Nick jerks his head to indicate the group of men who’ve gathered at a table behind them, and Louis wordlessly begins pulling pints. “I’ll open a tab for you, then?”

As Nick starts to walk away to deliver the drinks to the table, he says, “Harry, right? You’re welcome to join us if you want to?”

Harry doesn’t miss the way Louis' eyes go from his face to Nick’s and he flushes, feeling suddenly even more awkward than he has been already around Louis. Is it too weird to just sit at the bar and talk to Louis? He wouldn't mind meeting some new people, and it’s a rush, for sure, to be with people who can, he thinks, know he's gay and won’t beat the shit out of him for it, but it’s also been two days since he’s gotten to talk to Louis, and he feels something akin to a craving to be in his presence.

Harry looks at Louis, and the decision is made. “Err, maybe in a bit, if that’s okay? I thought I’d catch up with this one for a minute, if he’s not too busy to talk to me.”

And with that, the force of Louis' smile warms Harry’s face like the sun. “Miss me, Harry? I’m not too busy, for now, anyway.”

Nick just smiles again and says, “Whenever you’re ready, Harry, come on over.”

Harry slides onto the empty stool, and Louis begins mixing a drink, and then sets it down in front of him. Harry looks at it in confusion, as he hadn’t ordered anything.

“Just try it,” Louis says, “It’s a mojito, I think you’ll like it.”

Harry sips the drink, the lime and mint perfectly counterbalancing the bite of the rum. He thinks that, if nothing else, this summer is certainly going to expand his palette with respect to cocktails.

Louis wipes the bar in front of him. “So,” he says casually, “How’ve you been? Good times since I saw you?”

Harry tells him all about getting settled into the house, going on his first Whale Watch, and, then, as the bar gets busier, sits back to observe Louis at work. He hopes his infatuation isn’t written too clearly on his face as he watches Louis' hands moving swiftly as he mixes drinks, pulls pints and makes change. He watches Louis smile and flirt with the customers, laughing as he chats and slides drinks across the bar. _He is so good at this,_ Harry thinks, and then he sees Louis gently refuse to serve an older man who is clearly profoundly intoxicated.

“I’m sorry, Coop,” he says gently, and waves to one of the very large, bouncer-type guys who’s standing not too far away. “Let me give you some coffee, sweetie, and then Marcus will get you home.”

“Of course,” the bouncer says gruffly, draping an arm around the man and steering him away, “C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you out of here.”

Louis stares after them for a moment, his face still and sad. Harry wonders what the story there is, but doesn’t want to pry. He wonders if he’ll ever feel less awkward, like he’s always on the outside looking in. He wonders if he should go.

Louis shakes his head and seems to gather into himself for another moment, before turning to Harry with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. As he quickly makes a new drink for Harry and sets it in front of him, he leans across the bar and says quietly, “That’s Cooper Miller, he owns the hardware store down the street. His husband died last month, cancer.” Louis shakes his head again. “He’s utterly wrecked about it. They were together forty years, can you even imagine?”

 _Oh_. “Oh man, that’s so sad. No, I can’t really. But, I mean, how beautiful to have had a love story for that long, right?”

Louis shrugs, “I don’t know, Harold. I can’t even picture four years with someone, let alone forty!”

Harry looks at him quizzically, realizing that Louis hasn’t spoken at all of his own romantic history. “Really? You’re not...that’s not…” he can’t quite figure out what it is he wants to know, but just knows there something important here.

“Nah,” Louis doesn’t meet his eyes as he glances around the room, “I mean, sure I’ve dated and stuff, but I’m really not looking to settle down yet, you know? Got too much to do, me!” His laugh sounds a bit off and forced, but Harry’s too busy listening to the sound of his small, but real, hopes crashing around his ears to hear it. _Okay, so Louis is not looking for a relationship,_ he thinks. _That’s good to know._

He sips his drink, and then says, “Well, it does look like it’s getting busy here. Maybe I’ll go sit with Nick for a bit? Meet his friends?” He can’t help the tentative sound to his voice and wants to kick himself, as it almost sounds like he’s asking permission. “He’s a friend of yours, right?”

Louis is staring at him as if he doesn’t quite understand what Harry is saying and then simply says, “Yeah, Nick’s a friend. He’s a good guy, Harry. You should get to know him.”

Not exactly sure why his heart is hurting just a little bit, Harry says, “Yeah, okay,” picks up his drink, and walks away.

Harry spends the next hour sitting with Nick and his group of friends, who are all nice, but...they intimidate Harry, quite a bit, if he’s being honest. They’re dressed in gorgeous, and clearly fashionable outfits, and they have fit, muscular bodies, good tans, and sparkling white teeth. They call each other sweetie and darling and make hilarious, but somewhat catty, remarks about the men around them.

“Oh god,” one of them groans theatrically, “There’s Greg, trying for Louis again!” Harry’s head whips around at this, and he watches as a tall, very good-looking dark-haired man chats Louis up over the bar. Harry realizes that he hasn’t known Louis long enough to tell from across the room if the smile is forced or genuine. He glances up as Nick says, with a sour look on his face, “I don’t know why he’s bothering. Louis hates being picked up while he’s working.”

“Well, darling,” another friend says, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

There’s a cackle from the other men, but Nick simply rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to them, Harry, they’re the worst of the barnyard gossips!”

Harry aims for casual but thinks he’s probably not convincing anyone as he says, “Oh, are you and Louis, err, together then?”

Nick just gives him a smile that’s surprisingly genuine and sympathetic, “Oh no. I mean, Louis and I have had our fun, but that was a couple of years ago. Louis isn’t really one for, long-term relationships, I guess you could say.” Then Nick’s arm casually drapes around the back of Harry’s chair, and if Harry were to lean back, he’s pretty sure Nick would move it around his shoulders.“But what about you, darling? Did you leave...anyone special back at home?”

Harry glances across the room again, and sees Louis laughing up into the tall man’s smiling face. “No,” he says, “No one.” He doesn’t lean back.

After another half hour or so, Harry admits defeat. The bar is busy, unsurprising on a gorgeous early summer evening, and even though there’s no show tonight, the line for Louis' attention is 6 deep at this point. Harry leans over and taps Nick on the shoulder, who turns an inquiring look to him.

“I’m gonna head out, get some sleep.”

Nick nods. “Well, it was great to meet you, Harry. At the risk of sounding forward, would you like to exchange numbers?”

They do so, and Harry’s heart pounds a bit in excitement at the thought of making a new friend. He’s pretty sure Nick has been flirting with him, which is exciting if only for how new that experience is, but Nick also seems like the kind of guy who maybe flirts with everyone. In any case, as Harry heads to the door, he tries to get Louis' attention to wave goodnight, but Louis seems to be caught up in laughing with the same man that Nick’s friends had pointed out earlier, so Harry just sighs, and walks home.

**June 5th**

Harry wakes up on Sunday morning to a text from an unfamiliar number that appears to have come in at 2:13 am.

_Hey Harry, this is Louis. I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from Nick. Sorry I didn’t get to say good night, it was hopping until late! You want to get ice cream today?_

Harry can’t help the squeal of excitement that escapes his lips and he buries his face in his pillow for a moment to regain control. This is ridiculous, he chastises himself. He’s not some fourteen year old with a crush, he’s an adult. He’s twenty-one years old, and an independant person. He flops onto his back and feels the grin stretch across his face. He’s also definitely going for ice cream with the cutest boy he’s ever met. He immediately saves the number to his contacts, and then texts a quick reply, and they arrange to meet later that afternoon at Lewis’s, which Louis insists is the best ice cream in Provincetown, and that this has nothing to do with the name.

As Harry gets ready to walk over, he reminds himself firmly, _Louis is simply being a friend to you. He’s not looking for a relationship, and he’s probably not even attracted to you_.

When he gets to the ice cream place, he’s surprised to see that Louis is already standing there, talking with another person. _Okay, not a date._ At first he thinks it’s the tall guy from the night before, but as he gets closer, he sees that no, this is a different man. This guy is smaller, with dark hair and caramel skin, and is quite possibly the most objectively attractive man that Harry has ever seen in his life. There’s also something oddly familiar about him, but Harry can’t quite place him.

“Hey.” He wonders briefly, yet again, if he’ll ever stop feeling wrong-footed around Louis, as he turns and his face breaks open with his smile.

“Harry! Hey!” Louis pulls him into a quick a hug that has Harry startled and the other man rolling his eyes and grinning. “How’s it going?”

Harry can’t help smiling back, pretty sure that there are no circumstances under which Louis could be looking at him like that, that he wouldn’t smile back.

“Hi, Louis. It’s, um. It’s good, you know.”

“Harry, this is my best friend and partner-in-crime, Zayn. Zayn, this is Harry.” The two men shake hands and Harry does his best not to stare at Zayn in a creepy way. He really is ridiculously attractive. And then it hits him and he smiles.

“Oh! You’re Lady Zanita.”

The very attractive man flushes and smiles, “Yeah, that’s me. Louis said you’d enjoyed the show, been back a few times.”

Harry gets lost for a moment in the way the summer sun dances across Zayn’s cheekbones and then says, “Sorry, what?”

Louis nudges him in the ribs. “Yeah, yeah, he’s stunningly gorgeous, we mere mortals can’t compete, etcetera etcetera. He’s also taken.” Harry starts and laughs.

“I don’t know what’s in the water here, but there really are an inordinately large number of good-looking men in Provincetown!”

Louis just nods a bit wearily in agreement as they head into the ice cream shop. “You’ll get used to it, Harold. The novelty wears off after a bit.”

They head in and order, and then grab a table. Harry sits back and observes the relationship between Zayn and Louis. Clearly they’ve known each other forever, and their relationship is part adoring fan and part obnoxious brother, as far as he can tell. They’re bickering about something to do with laundry and Louis' unwillingness to finish his, when Zayn turns to Harry.

“So, Louis mentioned that you’re...uh...new to the whole…” He makes an inarticulate gesture that seems to communicate something along the lines of _“you just came out, and I want to be supportive but we just met so it’s kind of weird but hey, I’m here for you.”_

“Um, yeah.” Harry smiles self-deprecatingly, wondering what Louis has said. “I grew up in a really conservative town, so I couldn’t really...” His voice trails off, as he tries to think of how to summarize all the things he couldn’t do.

Zayn shakes his head. “I can’t imagine, brother. That’s tough. We were pretty lucky to grow up where we did. I mean, you can’t really grow up gay in a better place than Arlington and P-town, unless maybe it’s San Francisco.”

Harry wonders suddenly how much these men can understand what it was like for him, to be so deeply closeted, but when he looks at Zayn, he sees nothing but empathy on his face. Zayn glances at his watch and swears. “Shit, I was supposed to meet Li at the club 20 minutes ago to rehearse. You coming, Lou?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll head over later.” Zayn pulls Louis into a quick embrace, and then leans over the table and shakes Harry’s hand. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, brother. Any time you want to hang out, you just give us a call, we’re always up for it.”

He leaves, and the world seems marginally dimmer for a moment as Harry watches him walk away. Louis snorts. “Yeah, he is a gorgeous motherfucker, isn’t he? Once you get to know him, though, you’ll see, he’s just about the biggest fucking nerd out there.”

Harry, who is pretty sure that he’s the reigning champion for that title, gives Louis a skeptical look, who just laughs at him and pulls him out of the restaurant to go for a walk in the beautiful early summer afternoon.

They end up at the Pilgrim Monument, and flop down in the grass as they continue talking, and Harry marvels at how easily conversation flows between them. They talk about music and books, places they’ve been and want to go, their favorite childhood movies. The conversation slows for a moment and then Louis says casually,

“So, Nick thought you were really cute.”

Harry stares at him. “What?” He can feel himself starting to flush. It’s just a lot of work, is all, to remind himself that this is actually something safe to talk about, that another boy might find him attractive, that this isn’t going to lead to fists and shouting, blood and broken bones.

“Yeah.” Louis is staring at the ground and carefully pulling the grass out. “Yeah, he was wondering if you were single, or if, you know, we were….”

At this, Harry sits up quickly. “If we were what, Lou?” The name drifts off his tongue without even thinking about it.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Dating. Hooking up. Whatever. Something.”

Louis is decidedly not looking at him, and Harry can’t quite figure out what this all means. If Louis were a girl, he’d wonder if this was her round-about way of letting him know she was interested but, his gaze skims over the cut of Louis' jaw and the bulge of his bicep as Louis works over the grass, Louis is most definitely not a girl, and Harry doesn’t know at all how this works.

“What,” he clears his throat, “What did you say?”

Louis says, “Just that we just met, I think you’re great, completely adorable of course,” here Harry can’t tell if Louis is being serious or not as his face flames again, “but I have no claim on you, you’re a free agent, can do whatever you want, etcetera etcetera.” At this, Harry frowns. Maybe what he wants to do is...Louis, has that ever occurred to him?

Because he can’t read Louis well, yet, he simply says, “I don’t know, Louis. I don’t think I’m really looking for anything yet.”

**June 6th**

Harry approaches the business office for his first real day of work. He’s anxious and excited, and it feels like an important moment. It’s certainly one he’s been working towards for years. He remembers, with a stab of pain in his chest, his mother’s response when he described the internship.

“What? You’re working for free?” She’d asked skeptically.

“Well, not quite, they house us for the summer and there’s a food budget, but yeah. There’s not a stipend.”

She’d shaken her head and said only, “Well, you better start saving your pennies, Harry,” as she turned away, but Harry can remember the gleam of amusement and pride on her face as she’d described his plans to her best friend, on the phone later that afternoon.

He takes a deep breath, and then enters the office. It’s a large, open room, populated with several desks, some dilapidated file cabinets and a bank of computers with large displays, currently showing weather conditions, currents and maybe sonar? Harry’s not sure.

“Harry,” says a cheerful voice, and Ben stands up from the desk where he’d been sitting. “Hey, great to see you!” He comes forward, shakes Harry’s hand and says, “Okay, you guys are sharing these desks over here, so just drop your stuff anywhere and we’ll get started. I’m going to have you spend the morning filling out your paperwork and getting you familiarized with the website, how to make changes on it, our Instagram account and Twitter feed, our grant system, that kind of stuff. Then this afternoon, you’ll go out with Niall on the 2:00 cruise, okay? I know you already had your observation cruise, so today you can start helping with the presentations, learning the script, that kind of stuff. Sound good?”

Harry nods, accepting the pile of papers that Ben hands him. It does, it sounds _great_.

They break for an early lunch, and Ben tells him where some great places to get sandwiches are. “And, oh yeah, you’ll have to check out Lewis’ for ice cream,” he says enthusiastically, “It’s more of a haunt for locals, but it’s so good. A hidden treasure.”

Without thinking, Harry says, “Oh yeah, I had ice cream there yesterday, it was amazing.”

“Oh?” Ben says curiously. “That’s great that you’re getting out. How’d you guys find it?”

Harry says, flushing for no reason he can discern, “Um. I met a...a guy the first night we were here, who grew up summering here, we went there yesterday.”

Ben just smiles and says, “That’s great that you’re meeting new people, and making friends. P-town is a great place to spend the summer, Harry, I think you’re really going to enjoy it here.”

That afternoon, Harry’s heart pounds with excitement as he makes his way onto the boat and into the office marked “Staff Only.” He drops his bag behind the desk and smiles at Niall, who’s pulling together a stack of the brochures that they make available for the clients. He introduces himself to Frank, the pilot, and Kelsey, the photographer.

“Gorgeous day for it,” Kelsey remarks as she shoulders the large camera that has Harry salivating, just a little bit. “Looks like glass out there today, so we’ll have a smooth ride.”

Carole, the naturalist who will be leading today’s expedition, smiles at Harry and motions him over to where she’s standing, looking at the monitors. Without any introduction, she launches into a detailed explanation of what, exactly, it is that they’re looking at, and why it’s important, and just like that, the work begins.

Harry helps set up for the presentation that Carole gives, watching the faces in the crowd. Some are clearly not listening, instead choosing to look out at the scenery as the Dolphin IV makes its way out through the harbor and into the bay, but for others, curiosity and enthusiasm shines forth, and Harry can’t help but feel a moment of gratitude that he gets to be a part of this. From here, they’ll progress out into the waters of the Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary, and hopefully, encounter whales and more.

After the presentation concludes, Carole says to him, “Since you’re still learning the ropes, for now, just go mingle with guests. Answer questions if you know the answers, and don’t be afraid to say if you don’t know something.” She fixes a stern eye upon him. “We don’t want them getting wrong information, there’s no shame in not knowing something, just help them figure out where to get the right information.”

Harry gulps and nods, she’s a stern taskmaster, he’s been told, which is fitting as she’s one of the senior naturalists and has been studying these animals since the early 90s.

“I won’t,” he says firmly, “I don’t really have a problem admitting when I don’t know something.”

Carole gives him a small smile and simply says, “Good,” and makes a gentle shooing motion, so Harry makes his way out up the stairs to the topside deck. Kelsey was absolutely right, it’s a gorgeous day to be out on the water. Harry pulls on his sunglasses and makes his way over to the railing. There’s a family standing there, two ordinary looking parents with a blond girl who looks to be about nine, who is chattering away to them, and next to them, looking awkwardly around him, is a boy of about fourteen, who’s clearly just had a growth spurt as his track pants are about four inches too short. His long, blue hair waves in the wind, and he’s got a grumpy expression on his face.

Harry catches his eye and offers him a small smile, unsure if he should approach or not, but the question is answered for him as the little girl turns, and spotting his CCS t-shirt, says eagerly, “Hey, mister! Do you work for the whales?”

Harry tries not to grin as the boy rolls his eyes and mutters, “He doesn’t _work for the whales,_ Maeve, _Jesus.”_

“Language,” admonishes the boy’s mom without turning around — she’s watching the lighthouse slide by the boat as the make their way to the edge of the harbor.

“Fine, sorry,” the boy mutters and rolls his eyes. The mom reaches around and affectionately cuffs him gently upside the head and says, “Alexander George, I can hear you rolling your eyes, watch yourself.” Her tone is warm but firm, and all of a sudden, Harry misses his mom so much he can’t breathe.

He tunes out for a moment, trying to get his heart rate under control, and when he tunes back in, the little girl is staring at him expectantly and he has a feeling he’s missed a question.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Could you, err, could you repeat the question?”

“How do whales sing?” The little girl asks patiently, and gives him a sweet, gap-toothed smile that has Harry grinning back, in spite of the ache he feels.

“Well,” he says carefully, “That’s a great question.” He moves to the side of the railing next to her and looks down. “With the humpback whales that we’re hoping to see today, only the males produce the complex songs that are what we typically think of when we think of whale songs. We’re not entirely sure why they sing. Some people have said that maybe they’re trying to attract a mate, but they don’t always sing to the females, sometimes they sing to males.”

“Well,” Maeve says reasonably, “Maybe they’re trying to get a boyfriend instead? Can whales be gay?” Of all the questions that Harry has wondered if he might be asked, the sexual orientation of a whale was not on his list.

He opens his mouth to speak but before he can formulate a response, he’s interrupted by Alexander. “Of course they can, Maeve.” He’s glaring at her, his words loaded with far more emotion than Harry would have expected, his breath coming quickly. “There’s tons of animals that are gay.”

Harry looks up to see the parents exchanging one of those wordless communications that people in long-term relationships just seem to _know_ how to do and then the father speaks, the concern in his voice palpable as he looks at his son.

“I’m not sure if we can equate the sexual behavior of animals with human constructs about sexuality,” he says calmly, “But, yeah, Alexander, you’re absolutely right, same-sex behavior has been documented in a large number of animal species, and not just mammals. It’s not uncommon at all.” He pauses and then says, his words weighted heavily, “It’s absolutely a part of the natural world.”

And suddenly Harry realizes what is going on here, right in front of him.

The dad continues, “And you know, right, that your mom and I…” his voice trails off and the mom takes over.

“Your dad and I support _all_ love, baby, you know that right?” And Alexander bursts into tears.

As he tumbles into his parents’ arms, and they wrap him up in a tangle of love and murmured comfort, Harry moves to back away, intending to give them some privacy, when the little girl puts her hand on his arm.

“You didn’t answer my question though,” she says firmly, and Harry frowns.

“I didn’t?”

“No,” she says, with the confidence that only a nine year old girl can muster. “I asked you _how_ they sing, not why, I already know _why_ they sing. How do they sing?”

“Oh,” Harry smiles. “Yeah, okay. Well, actually, in the Humpback whales, scientists still don’t fully understand the mechanism of how they produce their songs. Isn’t that cool?”

“Oh,” she breathes, her eyes wide, “Oh, that’s amazing. We don’t know everything about them yet? There’s still stuff to learn?” She seems unmoved by the scene with her brother behind her, until she glances back and then gives a small, secret smile as she sees her brother still held tight in the arms of their parents, and Harry watches her shoulders drop in what he thinks may be relief.

“Yes,” Harry says in reply, “There’s still so much to learn.” They smile at each other in a moment of total understanding and then Harry turns, and makes his way back down to the lower deck, pondering what he’s just witnessed. As he stares out over the water, he hears a cry of excitement and then, suddenly, there’s a whale breaching, about 15 feet off the bow of the ship, and Harry feels a moment of joy so sharp, it almost hurts.

He remembers being on a ship much like this one, so many years ago, the first time he’d seen a whale, and he’d known in that moment, that he’d found his life’s work. He also remembers feeling much like he’s guessing Alexander had been feeling. Different. Alone. Scared. He wonders a bit about how things would have been for him if he’d had a different family and community, if he could have been given the same welcoming acceptance that this boy had just received. Would he still have fought so hard to quit that small town? To leave the vast fields and flat landscape of his childhood, to make his way back here to the edge of the land and beyond? There’s no way to answer that question, he supposes, but for the moment he feels content, as he watches the whale’s tail flare up out of the water as the animal prepares to dive, and for just a moment he holds onto his certainty that for right now, at least, he’s exactly where he needs to be.

Harry stands with the other crew members as they say goodbye to the passengers as they’re departing the boat. He sees Alexander and his family and smiles at them. There’s still evidence of tears on all of their faces, but they’re pulled in tight to each other, a clear unit as they move past Harry.

Suddenly he remembers something and says to Maeve, “Hey, you said earlier that you didn’t need me to tell you why the whales sing, because you already knew. Why? Why do you think that whales sing?”

Maeve gives him a big grin, her eyes sparkling in the sun as she says simply, “They sing because they’re happy.”

Harry feels tears prickling in his eyes as he smiles back, and hopes that the world stays this pure and hopeful for her for as long as possible. As the family heads down the gangway to the dock, Maeve turns back and calls to Harry, “That’s what everyone should do, right, mister? Sing because it makes you happy!” She leaps off the gangway with a hop and skips after her parents and brother.

 _Yes,_ Harry thinks as he watches their family walk away, _that’s what everyone should do._ Sing because it makes you happy.

**June 8th**

Harry heads eagerly into Simon’s and waves to Lexie, who is behind the bar. She calls out, “Hey Harry, nice to see you again!” Harry hasn’t seen Louis since their ice cream not-a-date on Sunday, and even though they’ve been texting nonstop, he’s excited to hang out with him in person.

Niall had teased him that afternoon when he’d gotten home from work, and mentioned he was going to see the show again and have a late dinner with Louis afterwards. “Jeez, Haz, are you dating him already?”

Harry had turned bright red and thrown a pillow at Niall, almost spilling a glass of water on Alice’s laptop in the process and getting the two of them banished from the living room. He had protested that no, of course, he wasn’t fit to be dating anyone, and besides, Louis was so... _Louis_ , and Harry was just Harry, and it would never happen.

Niall had fixed him with one of the piercing stares he pulls out when he really means business. “Don’t sell yourself short, Harry. You’re a catch. If I did dudes, I’d totally do you.”

Harry had rolled his eyes at that. “Oh yeah, Niall, a homeless, 21-year-old virgin is totally a catch.”

“No,” Niall had stopped Harry, laying a hand on his forearm, “Don’t do that, Harry. You are more than your life circumstances or your sexual history. You’re great, mate, and any guy would be lucky to have you.”

Harry had blushed and said, “Well, I don’t think that Louis is thinking anything like that about me.” He’s had to remind himself often the last few days that he and Louis are becoming friends. That’s all. “We’re friends, that’s it. He’s not looking for anything else right now.”

Louis is soloing tonight, and all through his set, which happens to be his Fabulous Show Tunes theme, Harry can’t take his eyes off of him, and he knows it’s not simply because of the spotlight. Louis burns so bright on stage, he’s mesmerizing. He’s clearly studied the history of musical theater extensively, and his stage patter is filled with interesting tidbits and facts. He’s blonde tonight, in a fire engine red mermaid gown that clings to his curves like a racecar, highlighting his delicate waist and sumptuous bottom. _Wait, is it allowed to think of your friend’s ass as being sumptuous?_ Harry realizes that he has no idea about the etiquette of gay, male friendships, and slumps in his seat, feeling further behind than ever.

Louis' songs run the gamut from stirring, with Bring Him Home from Les Mis, to passionate with If I Loved You from Carousel (“And _not_ ,” Louis had sniffed in disdain, “That Josh Groban cover, mes côtelettes d'agneau, never!”) to hilarious, with Dentist from Little Shop of Horrors, with the pianist, Liam, Louis had called him, chiming in from the piano at the chorus. Harry glances at his watch and realizes that Louis must be winding up soon, as he’s been singing for a solid hour at this point.

“And now, mes petits pois, it’s just about time for the lovely Miss Lala to depart but I have one more song for you, and this one is going out special to my new friend. Listen up, sweetie, make sure you hear what I’m saying.” And the music starts.

Harry sits bolt upright as he watches Louis turn his back to the audience and take a deep breath, before turning around to face them. Had Louis meant him? It seems likely, but also, he can tell Louis is so friendly that maybe he’s made another new friend, one who, in the days to come this summer, will actually have time to spend with him. Harry feels a sudden nagging doubt in his gut, but then Louis starts to sing, and Harry knows. This one is for him.

“I am what I am, I am my own special creation.” Louis' voice is soft, but not hesitant. “So, come take a look. Give me the hook,” he raises one eyebrow and the audience chuckles, “or the ovation.” He moves forward downstage, and Harry stares, absolutely enraptured. “It's my world that I want to take a little pride in, my world, and it's not a place I have to hide in. Life's not worth a damn,'til you can say, ‘Hey world, I am what I am.’"

Here the tempo picks up and Louis' volume increases. “I am what I am, I don't want praise, I don't want pity. I bang my own drum, some think it's noise, I think it's pretty. And so what, if I love each feather and each spangle,” here he smoothes his hands down over the sparkling red dress and shimmies a bit, “Why not try to see things from a diff'rent angle? Your life is a sham 'til you can shout out loud I am what I am!”

Harry feels his skin break out in goosebumps as the key modulates up a step and the tempo shifts again, this time to something akin to a two-step beat that Louis dances along to as he sings, “I am what I am and what I am needs no excuses. I deal my own deck, sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces. There's one life, and there's no return and no deposit; One life, so it's time to open up your closet.” Harry feels his throat swell with an unidentifiable emotion, and it takes him a long moment before he realizes, it’s pride. Whether it is pride for Louis, standing so bravely on that stage being exactly who he is, or for himself, for beginning to make his way through such a hard time, he could not have told you, but by god, he is proud.

“Life's not worth a damn 'til you can say,” and here Louis absolutely fucking nails the high note, and Harry can’t help himself, he lets out a shrill whistle and sees Louis' eyes crinkle in response as he triumphantly sings the finale, "Hey world, I am what I am!"

Louis lets the note ring and then it dies out. He stares out at the audience, clearly a bit overwhelmed by the enthusiasm in the room, which includes, Harry notices out of the corner of his eye, the noise coming from the entire wait staff who are lined up to the side watching, clapping and shouting. The crowd has obviously picked up on the energy, that there is something special about this moment, this song, even if they didn’t know what it is. Harry applauds until his hands hurt, and whistles again. Laughing, Louis waves, blows kisses, makes an exaggerated “ _oh stop_ ” gesture, and backs off the stage. Harry is sure for a moment that Louis is seeking him out in the crowd, but with the glare of the lights, it is hard to tell.

Harry sits back, listening to the sounds of conversation all around him increase. He watches Liam stand up and stretch, and then head backstage himself. Harry sips his beer, heart still pounding from that last song. After about twenty minutes, the curtains at the back of the stage shift, and Louis appears. He’s changed out of the dress, into a black sequined suit. He’s removed the wig but left the makeup, and, like before, Harry is mesmerized. He is incredibly impressed at the self-confidence Louis demonstrates, so obvious in the way he carries himself, to wear makeup in public. Not for the first time, Harry wonders what it would feel like to be that confident, to wear some eyeliner or nail polish. It is the first time, however, that he hasn’t squashed the thought down, terrified. _I could do that,_ he thinks in amazement, _I could do it too, if I wanted to._ The question, of course, is, does he want to?

Louis slides into the seat across from Harry, and grabs his beer from him and takes a healthy swig. Harry just rolls his eyes, and says “Can I get you a drink, Louis?”

“Nah, I really just want some water. I should be working the room, but I had to come say hi.” Louis’ eyes shine in the candlelight from the table as he looks at Harry. “What did you think?”

Harry smiles. “I heard you, Louis. Loud and clear.” He shakes his head in awe, “Jesus, that was just incredible. I mean, your whole set was wonderful, but that last one...”

Louis' smile bursts across his face like the sunrise. “God, I _love_ Cage Aux Folles, it’s one of my favorite shows ever, and that song. I think it’s like every gay man’s anthem.”

“I’d never heard it,” Harry admits sheepishly, struck again by that sense that there is a whole world here that he knows next to nothing about. He reminds himself that there is no entrance exam to being a gay man, this isn’t a club he is joining, there are no dues to pay. He has time. And really, who better to tutor him in the art of being a gay man (and clearly there is an art to it) than Louis Tomlinson.

He voices his thoughts to Louis, who throws his head back and laughs. “I’d be honored, man. But seriously,” here his voice drops into total sincerity, and he lays one hand over Harry’s on the table and squeezes gently before letting go, “You know you can ask me anything, okay, Harry? Talk to me about anything. I’m definitely here for you. Except,” he looks up and swears, “Shit, there’s Simon, I need to go mingle. Don’t leave, okay?”

Harry sips his beer and sighs. No, _man_ , he’s not going anywhere. He can handle being friends with Louis Tomlinson, he thinks to himself. At least, he’s pretty sure he can.

**June 9th**

Harry slumps down on the couch in the living room. It’s been a long day, he’d been out on three whale watches, and he can still feel the room swaying around him. They hadn’t seen a lot of whales as it was still early in the season, and he had tried not to feel too guilty. The customers had seemed satisfied, at least, and Harry had gotten to take the lead on the educational portion of the cruise on the last two. He’d had a blast talking with some kids who asked the most interesting questions. He is starting to feel like he’s getting the hang of this part of his job, and it feels good.

Alice drops down onto the couch next to him, and he slings an arm around her shoulders. “What are you doing tonight, Harry? Any plans?”

Harry shrugs. “Nothing specific. I don’t have work until Tuesday, I’m on afternoon office duty.” During his orientation, Ben had explained that because the Center ran 7 days a week, including all holidays, Harry couldn’t expect too much of a regular schedule. They would try to get him the same time off every week but there was no guarantee, and everyone is expected to pitch in when high season hits. Harry can’t wait, honestly. So far, he’s loving the work, both on the whale watch cruises and in the office, where he gets to answer phones and emails, put together information packages, and update the website. Knowing he’s contributing to the conservation of these incredible animals gives him a thrill that no touchdown ever did. “You?”

He runs his fingers through Alice’s blond hair, and then starts rubbing her neck as she gives a groan of appreciation. “Oh Jesus, Harry. You’ve got good hands. If we weren’t both so gay, I’d give you a try.” Harry snorts at this.

Maybe it’s because they’re all living together as well as working together, but the interns have already gelled into a cohesive group. Harry isn’t sure if the snuggle quotient is typical, but he has to admit that he loves it. He’s always been a tactile person, and had always had to rein himself in at home, but here, no one minds if he drapes himself on them, and no one blinks to find any number of them cuddling on the big couch.

Alice continues, “Maxxie and I were thinking about going out for a drink, maybe back to Simon’s?” She smirks at him but makes no further comment. Harry continues to be hopeful that he’s keeping his crush on Louis contained, but it’s moments like these that make him doubt himself a bit.

He shrugs casually, “Uh, sure. That could be fun. What is everyone else doing?”

“Laurie left for Cambridge this afternoon, so she’s not here.” Alice manages to elbow Harry in the side as she rearranges herself, and he groans as she shouts up the stairs, “PERRIE! NIALL! MAXXIE! WE’RE GOING TO SIMON’S IN A HALF HOUR.” She settles back in next to Harry and grabs his hand, placing it back on her neck, “So you’ve got a bit more time, Styles. Work your magic.”

It takes them all closer to an hour to get themselves sorted and out the door, and Harry is pretty sure it’s akin to herding puppies. As they move down the sidewalk, Niall drops back from where he is talking to Perie, and drapes an arm companionably around Harry’s shoulder. “So, what’s your plan, Harry?”

Harry stares at him. “My plan?” He asks, confused, “My plan for what?”

Niall looks at him kindly, his cheeks pink in the summer night’s breeze, and Harry says, “Wait, you’re high, aren’t you?”

Niall nods and suppresses a giggle, “Yes, my dear man, I am. But that’s not an answer to my question. Do you have a plan to woo yon barman, the fair Louis?”

Harry snorts. He has yet to try Niall’s “truly excellent” weed. He’d smoked a few times at home, and had enjoyed it, but always felt afraid that he was going to reveal his big secret. But now that his secret is out, he thinks, there is actually no reason to keep saying no. He tucks that thought away for a later day, and replies with a touch of exasperation, “No, I keep telling you. We’re just friends.”

“Well,” says Niall reasonably, “what about friends with benefits?”

Harry stares at him. “...With benefits? What?”

“You know, friends who hook up, make each other feel good. You gotta have stellar communication, of course, talk it all out, know what your limits are, but yeah. It can be a great situation.”

Harry continues to stare at him, as he turns over the possibilities in his mind. This is not something that has ever occurred to him. He knows the term, of course, but has never done it himself, namely because the only people available to him up until now have been women, and frankly, he’s always been more interested in reading or playing music than that. Which, “I’m really gay, Niall,” he says without thinking.

Niall just pats him affectionately. “I know you are, babe. So gay. It’s beautiful.” He plants a damp kiss on Harry’s cheek, and moves back up to walk with Perrie.

For the rest of the walk, Harry is silent, thinking about what Niall has said. Friends with benefits. That’s a thing. A thing he could do. With another man. Oh god, just the thought of it seems to get his body interested. As they get to the club and Niall holds the door for them all as they enter, Harry wills his semi back down. He can’t go say hi to Louis while sporting a chubbie. It wouldn't be seemly.

The club is hopping, and their group manages to snag the last open booth. Harry and Niall head over to the bar to grab the first round, and Harry feels a moment of anxiety. What if Louis thinks he’s stalking him or something. But Louis' face lights up when he sees them, and he reaches over the bar to exchange some sort of complicated handshake with Niall while Harry watches, bemused. This is clearly part of Niall’s magic.

Then Louis turns to give Harry a quick once over, and Harry is pretty sure Louis spots the situation in his skinnies, given the way one eyebrow raises. “Harry.” Louis sounds almost breathless. “How’s it going?”

“Great!” Harry says, trying to be heard above the noise of the room. “Busy tonight!”

“Yeah,” Louis wipes an arm across his forehead, “We got a big bus tour group about an hour ago, they’re always a lot of fun.”

Harry feels his stomach drop a bit, and kicks himself. _He’s working, you idiot._ “Well, we’re just gonna grab some drinks, I guess.”

Louis just fixes an eye on him. “Don’t be silly, Harry. I’ll send Kylie over in a second, she’ll get your order. Don’t leave without talking to me, okay? I want to ask you something.” And with that, Louis is pulled down to the other end of the bar and starts mixing drinks quickly.

Harry stares after him until Niall nudges him and mutters, “Ix-nay on eart-hay eye-yays, brother.”

As Harry turns, he spots Nick at a table with some friends. Nick catches his eye, and waves enthusiastically, so Harry detours over to say hello, calling to Niall, “Hey, order me something, okay?” Niall throws a thumbs up over his shoulder as he heads back to their booth.

Nick smiles warmly. “Hey, Harry! How are you?” He indicates the chair next to him. “Do you want to sit down, join us?”

He really is quite good looking, Harry thinks, but he doesn’t hold Harry’s gaze the way Louis does. Harry thinks that maybe no one has ever held his attention like Louis does. That doesn’t mean he and Nick can’t be friends though, and he smiles with genuine regret as he says, “Not tonight, thanks though. I’m with the other interns, we’re just having a quick drink.”

Nick smiles again. “Of course. You know, I was thinking, would you like to grab a drink some time? Or maybe dinner? What night’s good for you?”

Harry casts a quick thought over his work schedule and then says cheerfully, “Yeah, that sounds great. What about Saturday?” It only occurs to him after he’s spoken that Saturday is traditionally a date night.

Nick smiles a slow smile and says, “Lovely, shall I come pick you up?”

And that gives Harry pause, as he remembers, that’s right. Nick is gay, and Harry is gay, and they’re two gay men who could conceivably find each other attractive enough to have sex, which means this might be a date. Is this a date? _Oh god,_ Harry thinks frantically, _I don’t know how to date._

“Um, no, that’s okay,” he blurts out, “I’ll just meet you here?”

Nick nods and they set a time, and Harry heads back to the table where his friends are waiting.

After a couple of drinks, Harry and the others decide to call it an early evening, as no one is quite in the mood for the loud crowds after a long day out on the water. Harry yawns as they sort themselves out and get the bill paid. As he’s walking to the door, he remembers that Louis had told him not to leave without talking to him. “Hey, hold up, I need to say goodbye to Louis.” The others say they’ll meet him outside, and he makes his way back over to the bar, where he waits for a moment to catch Louis' eye.

“Hey!” Louis looks a bit tired, but still smiling. “Leaving so soon? Did you guys have a good night?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, “We’re all just tired. Long day. You said,” he pauses, as usual, feeling a bit awkward, “You wanted to ask me something?

“Oh yeah! Are you working on Monday? Zayn and I are going to have some folks over for cocktails, and I was wondering if you’d be able to come by? Nick and a bunch of his friends will be there too.”

“Oh!” Harry says, pleased. He thinks of his schedule, “Yeah, I’m not working on Monday afternoon, just in the morning, and I have Tuesday off next week.” He grins, “That sounds good. I’m, um” and here he feels a flash of awkwardness, “I’m having dinner with Nick on Saturday.”

Louis seems a bit surprised, and a look that Harry can’t quite identify crosses his face, but he only says, “Well, that sounds fun. Where are you going?”

“He suggested we meet up here, actually. Something about the Saturday night prime rib special?”

Louis nods, and Harry can’t quite help but feel something is off about him, though he’s not sure what it is. “It is good, he’s not wrong.”

“So, for Monday? Can I bring anything?”

“Nah,” Louis replies easily and Harry wonders if he had imagined that moment of discomfort between them, “we’ll have everything, unless there’s something you particularly like, then bring that.”

There’s another small but awkward pause. “Well, they’re waiting for me,” Harry nods towards the doors, “I’d better go. See you later?”

Louis tilts his head and looks over Harry’s face, that same indiscernible, almost sad, look on his face. “Yeah. See you Saturday,” he says, his normally loud, boisterous voice soft, muted.

As Harry pushes through the doors to join his friends he can’t help but glance back at Louis and he feels his stomach twist uncomfortably at the niggling feeling that he’s done something wrong. He’s just not sure what.

**June 11th**

Saturday afternoon finds Harry staring fretfully into the wardrobe where he is storing his clothes for the summer. He has no idea if tonight's dinner with Nick is a date or not. Therefore, he has no idea what to wear.

"Niall!” He doesn't move from his position in front of the wardrobe as he calls loudly to his housemate. "Niall, you have to help me. I have no idea what to wear! I don’t know how to do this.” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

Niall opens his bedroom door, which emits a small cloud of pungent smoke, and crosses the hall, entering Harry's room and flopping down onto his bed.

"Do what? What has you so worked up, Harry?”

"I just," Harry sags down onto the bed next to Niall and closes his eyes. "I just feel like I've never done any of this before, and I don't know what I'm doing. I mean,” he turns to look at the man lying next to him, who is smiling beatifically at the ceiling, "How do I even know if this is a date?”

"Well," Niall says reasonably, "do you want it to be a date?”

"I don't know." Harry rolls onto his stomach and buries his face in his pillow. "Before he invited me out, I was thinking we could definitely friends, but then he did ask me to dinner. He’s really nice, and he’s really cute, but…”

"He's not Louis.”

“He's not Louis.” Harry agrees with a sigh, finally admitting it.

"So here's the thing, Harry. Nick is an actual guy who has actually asked you out, as opposed to Louis, who looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars, but hasn't, you know, made a move.”

Harry lifts his face from the depths of his pillow and sits up. He meets Niall’s open, blue eyes, and says softly, "So what should I do?”

Niall offers him a wicked grin, and says, "I think you should get dressed to impress, and go out and have a great time.”

So Harry does. He pulls on his skinniest black jeans, and shrugs on a loose, floral-patterned button-up shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone. He shoves on his faithful chucks, grabs his wallet, keys and phone, and glances in the mirror. He runs a hand through his hair, deems it acceptable, looks over at Niall on his bed, and says "OK. I'm ready to go.”

Niall looks at him, stands up, walks over and carefully unbuttons the shirt until it's more than half-unbuttoned. He gives Harry's bare chest a friendly pat, and says, " _Now_ you’re ready to go.” Harry flushes but leaves the buttons undone. He supposes it can’t hurt.

Harry and Nick have agreed to meet at 7 o'clock, and Harry can hear one of the local church clock towers striking the hour as he pulls the door to Simon’s open. He sees Nick standing by the bar, chatting with Louis, who is bartending tonight, and heads towards them.

Louis sees him first, and his face seems to freeze as he takes Harry in. Nick turns, and offers Harry a wide smile and a friendly wave, as he calls out, "Harry! Hey there. Wow, you clean up nice!”

“Yeah,” Louis echoes, and Harry wonders if he is imagining the bite in Louis' tone. "You look great, Harry.”

Harry’s cheeks flush, and all of a sudden, he feels a flash of annoyance at the look on Louis' face, as a small pang of something that might be guilt runs through his stomach. He's not doing anything wrong, he reminds himself. Sure, he and Louis have been flirting, he can admit that, but Louis hasn't made a move. And Nick did invite him out tonight.

"Hey, Louis. Hey, Nick.”

Nick smiles again at Harry, and says, "They've got a table for us set up out on the back deck, Harry. Would you like to head out?"

Harry nods, feeling again that ridiculous frisson of guilt, as he looks at Louis, and then he turns to Nick and says clearly, "that sounds great. Lead the way!”

As Nick guides Harry out the rear doors to the deck, he imagines that he can feel Louis' eyes on him, focused with laser precision on the spot where Nick's large hand rests on Harry's lower back.

Over dinner, Harry starts to relax. Nick is witty, urbane, and educated, and Harry realizes that he’s having another new experience, this time engaging with someone on a deeper intellectual level than he ever has before. They drink wine and talk about books and music, and Harry feels a small thrill that he’s able to introduce Nick to some bands he’s never heard of, bands that are big on the indie radio station back home.

There’s a pause, and then Harry hears himself say, “This is kind of amazing, Nick. I don’t think I’ve met anyone before who I could talk about music like this with.”

Nick smiles understandingly, “Not so many indie music gays in your hometown?”

Harry shakes his head, and realizes that the pang he feels at the term hometown is less immediate somehow. “No, I’m pretty sure I was the only one. Indie music fan, that is, not queer kid.”

Nick sips his wine and smiles in the glow of the lights scattered about the deck. The sun has set without Harry even noticing, and he kicks himself a bit for not paying attention to the western sky. He thinks the sunset over the bay must have been spectacular.

Nick then asks casually, “So, no one special for you at home then?”

Harry glances down at the table. “No, no one.”

“Would you want there to be? Not at home, of course. Here.”

Harry knows what Nick is asking, and takes a moment to really think about it. Then he glances up and sees Louis move by the open doors from the club out to the deck where they’re seated. He’s taking off his apron, and Harry wonders if he’s done for the night. And, he realizes with a sigh, that he’s going to say no to Nick. Because as cute and fun as he is, there’s not the same spark with him that there is with Louis.

He looks up and meets Nick’s eyes. “I don’t think so, Nick.” He says it softly, and sees a brief look of disappointment cross Nick’s face.

“Well, then,” the other man says, and smiles, “Let’s toast to new friendships.”

Harry feels a rush of relief as he lifts his wine glass. “Let’s.”

Over the next hour, he and Nick solidify their connection with some bad puns and a few rounds of “the most embarrassing thing I have ever done” stories, which leave Harry’s gut aching from the laughter they’re sharing. He’s slumped back in his chair, clutching his stomach and whimpering, “Stop, stop, stop, oh my god, you did not.”

“I swear to god,” Nick says, laughing as well, “I really did.”

Then Harry’s eyes fly open as he hears the small cough of someone clearing their throat, and he looks up to see Louis standing next to their table, his face unreadable in the low light. “Well,” he says a bit cooly, “this look cozy.”

Nick straightens up, “Off the stick then, darling? Care to join us?”

Louis shakes his head, but his face eases minutely. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

Harry wonders again just what is going on with Louis, but says only, “You’re not. Nick was just comforting me with stories of his awkward youth!”

At that, Louis' eyes light up and he sits down next to Harry, casually draping his arm over the back of Harry’s chair as he takes a sip from Harry’s glass. Nick’s eyes flick from Louis' face to Harry’s, and he gives a small nod to himself, hiding his knowing smile behind his glass as he lifts it to his lips to drink. Without thinking, Harry leans back into the warm weight of Louis' arm, and feels Louis' fingers tangle briefly in his hair. He shivers a bit in response, the light touch shooting sparks down his spine, and begins to wonder if this is not as one-sided as he’d been thinking.

**June 13th**

Harry stands in front of the door and rechecks the address. 501 Commercial Street, Apartment 1B. This building is...whoa, it’s really nice, and looks very high-end. Harry doesn’t know a lot about real estate, but he’s pretty sure that high-end in P-town is really fucking high-end. He wonders briefly how Louis and Zayn can afford such a place. He looks down at the 6 pack of Pharmhouse Ale that is sweating in the summer heat, and hopes the guy at the liquor store hasn’t steered him wrong.

Taking a deep breath, he raps loudly on the door, and hears a faint, answering shout from within. “C’mon in, it’s open!”

Harry pushes the door open, and looks around him in amazement. The door leads directly into the main living space of the apartment, which is living room and dining room all in one, with the focal point being the floor-to-ceiling windows and sliders at the back of the space, opening up onto a large deck overlooking the Provincetown Harbor. There is a gorgeous galley kitchen separated from the living space by a half-wall, and a hallway off to the left, where Harry assumes the bedrooms and bathrooms are. Louis had casually mentioned that one of the things he loved about this place was that he got his own bathroom.

Louis comes out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a dishtowel, and Harry stops and stares. This is his first time seeing Louis in his home environment, and Harry has to admit, this version is as potent as all the others. Louis is barefoot, in baggy shorts of a loose mesh, and a tank top that is currently sliding off of one shoulder as he tosses the dish towel towards the general vicinity of the kitchen counter, and hurries over to pull Harry into a quick hug. He is unshaven with a light stubble, no makeup, just glorious blue eyes and beaming smile as he welcomes Harry.

“Hey, glad you’re here! Everyone’s out on the deck, just having some drinks.”

They head outside through the sliders, and Harry takes in the group of several men and women, all around his own age, dressed in everything from casual beach clothes to clubwear. Zayn waves lazily from where he is sitting on the railing of the deck. There is a handsome muscular man that it takes Harry a moment to place as the pianist from the club, sitting on the bench between Zayn’s legs, leaning his head onto one of Zayn’s lean thighs as Zayn runs narrow fingers through his short hair.

Harry recognizes some of the people standing with Nick, as Louis says, “For everyone who hasn’t met him, this is Harry. Harry, this is Jesy and Cara. I think you’ve met Dan and Josh, and you know Nick, of course.”

His tone is a bit sour on the last part of his statement, and Harry is beginning to think he recognizes that for what it might be — jealousy. He rolls his eyes to himself, because honestly, Louis has nothing to worry about, not that he’s even made any offers. As Harry smiles and says hello, he thinks again that there must be something in the Cape water, as this is quite possibly the most attractive group of people he’s ever seen gathered in one place.

Harry looks out at the harbor, marveling at their location, and Louis points out the shed where he and Zayn store their kayaking gear and paddle boards. The others tease them in a clearly familiar manner, with Cara saying, “Yeah, not all of us are so lucky as to score a place right on the harbor!”

Harry turns to Louis, “Yeah, not to be, you know, nosy or anything,” at which Louis snorts and nudges him in the ribs, reminding him without words of that moment at the club when he’d said quietly, “You can ask me anything, Harry.”

“But, err, how do you and Zayn, err, you know….”

“Afford this place?” Louis grins, his blue eyes crinkling in amusement, “S’a valid question. Zayn’s dad owns the building, and he’s just so psyched to get Zaynie home for the summer that he lets us stay here for low rent. We do a bit of the maintenance around the building, help out with that kind of stuff, and then he rents it out to a couple of teachers during the year. It’s our third summer here, and it is such a sweet deal, I tell you! You should come over some time so I can teach you to paddleboard.”

Harry shakes his head, “I have to say, I love our crazy little intern house, but this is incredible.”

Zayn chimes in, “It’s great being on the first floor too. We can walk right out to the harbour, we’re just a 5 minute walk from work, and…” his voice trailed off suggestively as Louis grins and they say gleefully together, “No noise complaints!”

“Except from me, you asshole,” Louis snipes affectionately and Harry flushes as he takes in the implication.

After another drink, most of the group decides to head out to wander Commercial Street and see, as Nick puts it, “what shenanigans we can get up to!” He looks back and forth between Harry and Louis, “You boys in?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, I’m too comfy.” He is curled up on the double lounger with a fresh beer next to him. “I’ll clean up here, text me if you land anywhere, maybe I’ll head out later?” He turns to Harry, who is standing nearby, feeling a bit awkward. “You’re welcome to hang here, Harry, but don’t let me keep you if you want to go…” Harry tries to read into the brief silence, to figure out what Louis wants, if he is asking Harry to stay or encouraging him to leave.

He says tentatively, “Um, I’d love to just sit and watch the sunset, if you don’t mind, Louis. I’ve been so busy since I arrived, I haven’t really had a chance to do much of that. I can help clean up too.”

Harry sees a brief flash of _something,_ he’s not sure what, cross Louis' face as he smiles up at Harry. “Offering to help clean? I may not let you leave, Styles.”

Again Harry feels something in his stomach at the words, and the involuntary thought arises, _Wish you wouldn’t…._

They make quick work of cleaning up the drinks, and Louis mentions grabbing take-out later as they settle back onto the lounger with fresh beers.

Harry sips his beer, and watches the sky start to light up with the glow of the setting sun. There is another slightly awkward pause, and he opens his mouth to say something, anything, when he hears Louis give a short laugh beside him.

“So, uh, Nick seems right taken with you, man. Looked like things were going well last night when I interrupted. I know you said that you weren’t really looking for something, but I’m betting he’s interested.”

So, Harry thinks to himself, they’re actually going to talk about this. He feels his stomach tighten in anticipation and nerves, and reminds himself, yet again, it’s time to be brave. He’ll never get what he wants if he doesn’t ask for it, and, he’s decided, what he wants is Louis, any way he can have him.

“You didn’t interrupt anything, Louis. In fact, you came out right after we’d decided that we’re going to be friends.” He glances out of the corner of his eye to read Louis' reaction as he continues, “Just friends.”

“Oh,” Louis' tone is guarded as he asks, “Why? I mean, you have to admit, Nick’s pretty hot, and I can tell he’s into you.”

“Well.” He pauses, not sure how to say it. “I mean, he’s definitely good-looking and all, but I don’t know. Guess I don’t really feel that spark.”

“But Harry,” Louis' voice is quiet, “How do you know what that even feels like if you’ve never kissed someone? I mean, kissed someone that you actually wanted to kiss?”

Harry sets his jaw stubbornly. “I may be inexperienced, Louis, but it’s not like I’ve never felt attraction for someone.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same as it being mutual, you know?”

Harry sighs. “Louis, one of the ways I finally figured out that I was really and truly gay was when I was so attracted to one of the other boys on the football team, 8th grade. Jamie Nelson.” He remembers back to that moment, when they’d both ended up in the showers in the locker room at the same time, and that pulsing attraction between them. He describes the scene to Louis. “He felt the same way, I could just...I could _see_ it…” When Louis snickers, Harry knocks him companionably with his shoulder, “Not like that, you asshole, it was there, I could see it in his eyes. It was...it was incredible.”

Nothing had happened, they had only stared at each other for far longer than 14-year-old boy culture had deemed allowable, and then, finally, reluctantly, they’d turned away. Harry had also had, that night, quite possibly the most explosive orgasm he’d ever experienced to date, reliving that moment in his mind, his hand moving frantically over his cock, but he decides not to share that with Louis at this time.

“And, I’ve kissed a lot of girls. I know exactly how it feels to kiss someone I’m not particularly attracted to. So I’m guessing that when I finally _do_ get to kiss a guy, it won’t be like that.” He shrugs. “It’s not like I’m waiting for a Grand Love or anything, but I guess, I want it to be with someone I like, that I’m attracted to. Even, like a friend.” _Someone like you,_ his unhelpful mind asserts, _someone just like you._ “Niall told me I should find a friend with benefits.”

“Really?” Louis' voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Is that something you’d be interested in? With, you know, just one guy? I mean, given how little opportunity you had in Minnesota, if I were you, I’d be out finding someone new every night. Like a kid in a candy shop.”

Harry laughs, “Nah, that’s not really me, I’ve never really had that much of a sweet tooth, for all that I used to be a baker.” He glances sideways at Louis as he says carefully, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, if it’s what floats your boat. But I think I’d be much more interested in just being with one person, someone who knows what they’re doing, and would be, you know, open to trying stuff…”

Louis nods, and Harry can see the movement of his throat as he swallows, and can’t help but notice that all of this talk about actual sex he might actually get to have in the actual foreseeable future seems to have, huh, actually gotten him hard.

The air between them turns electric as he shifts and looks at Louis, alight in the fire of the setting sun, his eyes and hair turned to burnished gold, and feels a sudden wave of desire so powerful that his mouth goes dry. Louis turns and looks back at him and his heart starts to race, because Louis' eyes are dark and hooded, and, Harry lets his own eyes sweep down quickly, if he’s not mistaken, Louis Tomlinson is also hard in his loose athletic shorts, and fuck that, the idea that Harry doesn’t know what mutual desire feels like even if he’s never had the chance to act on it. He knows it, he does, and _Louis wants him too_.

Then Louis opens his mouth, and you could knock Harry over with a feather when what comes out of it is, “What about me?”

Harry freezes, not expecting such a direct question, and stares, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. After what feels like an eternity, he draws in a ragged breath, and says, “What about you, what, Louis?”

“I’m saying,” Louis draws in his own shuddering inhale, “That, like, I’d be willing. You know, interested. You’ve got to know how attractive you are. I’m not really looking to date anyone seriously this summer either, and…” His voice trails off for a moment, and then he continues. “I don’t think I’m mistaken, Harry, that maybe you’re attracted to me too. I just, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you the last couple of weeks.”

“Um, so how...how would you see this working?” Harry stutters out, his mind racing at a million miles an hour, though pretty much his only thought is of _kissing Louis touching Louis oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god._

“Well, like you said, a friends with benefits thing?” Louis bites his lip, and looks at Harry.

“What if you meet someone you want to date?”

“Well, you could too,” Louis points out reasonably, “And if that happens, then we just talk about it. I think if we just agree, that no matter what, being friends is more important than the benefits, we could have a lot of fun.” His smile suddenly turns wicked as his voice drops, “So much fun, Harry. If you’re up for it.”

Heart pounding, Harry takes a breath, and then nods once. “I’m up for it.”

There is a pause, as if they are both wondering, with this now out in the open, what next? Then Louis pulls Harry’s beer out of his hand, and sets their bottles down on the table next to him. He moves closer to Harry, never breaking eye contact as he reaches up, cupping Harry’s jaw with his strong, slender fingers.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, leaning in closer still, and Harry can feel something akin to sparks leaping between them, his skin buzzing under Louis' touch.

All Harry can do is nod slightly, feeling Louis' thumb trace lightly over his lips as they part automatically. His heart is racing and his blood is pounding in his ears as he swallows, feeling the faint puff of Louis' exhalation on his mouth.

“Yeah. Yes. I...Jesus, Louis please, just….” Harry’s voice trails off and his eyes meet Louis' once more before he moves, pressing himself forward through that tiny distance, that infinite moment between possibility and attainment, catching Louis' mouth with his own.

This. Oh god, this is a _revelation_. Now, Harry has kissed his fair share of girls, and has never seen the big deal about kissing. But this, this is like a lightning strike, the summer storm exploding within him as he feels Louis' mouth move under his own, his own hand reaching up to skim along Louis' jaw line, rubbing the prickly stubble beneath his fingertips. This is not the soft press of a girl’s lips, covered in some sort of sticky lipgloss, chemical taste unpleasant on his tongue. No, this is the strong mouth of a man, lips firm under his own, this is a man’s hard chest pressed to his own as Louis shifts closer, winding his arm around Harry’s neck as Harry’s other hand slides up to grasp Louis' firm bicep. This is rough, strong, and everything, _everything_ Harry has ever dreamed it could be, and like nothing he’s ever known before.

After another long moment, almost as if by mutual agreement, both men ease back, Louis holding Harry for one more instant and then letting go.

“That was…” he shakes his head, “Wow, Harry.” He takes a deep breath through his nose as if to steady himself.

Harry leans back, his heart still pounding. “Jesus, Louis, that was. Is it always like that?”

Louis looks down, his lashes standing out in stark relief on his cheekbones. “No, Harry. It’s not. It’s definitely not always like that.” His smile widens, “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun.”


	3. June 15 - 30, 2016

**June 15th**

Harry knocks impatiently on Louis' door. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss, and when Louis had invited him to come over after work and try paddle boarding before he had to head to the club, Harry had accepted eagerly. He’s never tried to paddle board, and while he has some concerns about his own coordination, he’s also hopeful that maybe there will be some more kissing.

When Louis opens the door, it takes Harry a moment or two to regain coherence, because Louis is. Well, he’s not wearing a shirt, is the thing. He’s wearing swim trunks with a fun turtle print, and that’s all. His skin is glowing, almost a caramel color, and he looks, well, amazing. He’s also laughing at the look on Harry’s face, and fans himself for a moment. “Jesus, Styles. It’s like you’ve never seen a man’s chest before.”

Harry reaches out and traces one finger down the line of Louis' sternum. “Never when I was actually allowed to look, Louis. Or touch.” His voice is shaky but his hand is steady as he slides his hand to Louis' belly and he can feel the muscles moving under his caress. Emboldened, he leans in and presses his lips to Louis', and for a moment Louis is frozen, and then his hand comes up and pulls Harry closer so they’re pressed chest-to-chest as they kiss.

Just as the kiss threatens to move to something wilder and darker, Harry hears a door slam down the hallway. He and Louis jump apart, and Zayn says, “Yeah, I saw that. Thought you guys were going paddle boarding?”

“Um,” Louis clears his throat, “Uh, yeah we are. C’mon Harry, let’s head out.”

The next couple of hours are spent out in the water, mainly with Louis laughing hysterically as Harry tries, and fails more often than not, to get himself standing on the board.

“C’mon!” Harry says, laughing as well, because he can admit that he’s a bit ridiculous. “It’s a plank of wood! Floating on the water! It’s not my fault I’m long and elegant! Your center of gravity is much lower than mine!”

He finally manages to get himself standing, and gives a shout of triumph. “SUCCESS! I HAVE CONQUERED THE FLOATING BOARD! I AM THE MAS-”

He gives a loud squawk as a howling Louis leaps from his own board onto Harry’s back, tackling him from behind and knocking them both into the water with splash. They surface with Louis laughing and Harry protesting as he spits out the salt water, “ _Hey!_ That’s not nice! I totally had that, Louis! You fucking suck, man!”

He treads water, one hand resting on the board, as Louis moves closer, the look in his eyes shifting from fond to something a bit more predatory as he takes in a waterlogged Harry. Harry feels his own breath hitch in anticipation as Louis moves against him, sliding one leg between Harry’s thighs and pressing up gently. The water rocks them gently together and Harry closes his eyes as he feels Louis' breath on his neck, and then lips on his skin. His head tilts back to give Louis better access and he feels himself start to thicken up in his swim trunks as his breath stutters.

Louis loops one arm around Harry’s back, and kisses him, first gently and then more forcefully. Harry can feel that Louis is beginning to harden up as well, and now they’re kissing in full, grinding together and Harry’s panting as he whispers, “Louis, Jesus.”

Harry is vaguely wondering how far this is going to go when he hears a shout from the shore, “Louis, c’mon, man! We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago for rehearsal!”

Louis breaks the kiss with a groan, pressing his forehead against Harry’s chest as he fights to get himself back under control. “Fucking Zayn. Fucking work. Jesus, Harry, I could kiss you all day.”

Harry lets himself sink under the cool of the water to settle himself down, and when he surfaces, he presses a chaste kiss to Louis' cool and salty lips, and says, “Me too, Louis. Me too.”

**June 20th**

A week after things shift between him and Louis, Harry gets a text that nearly makes him drop his phone into the ocean as he walks along MacMillan Pier. Which would be bad. It starts innocently enough.

LalaLou:     Hey so I’ve been thinking…

Harribo:     Don’t hurt yourself ha ha

LalaLou:     Oh ha ha fuck you  
                  But seriously...thinking about this whole...you know, FWB thing

Harribo:     ….Yeah?

LalaLou:     So, you should make a list

Harribo:     A list? What the hell are you talking about?

LalaLou:     Of all the stuff you want to try.

Oh. Oh _really_? Harry pauses, looked around at the packed whale watch boat just pulling away from the pier, the families, kids in strollers, sunburned dads, moms trying to corral their offspring. He clears his throat self-consciously as image after graphic image floods his mind. He can feel himself blushing as he hears his name being called.

“Harry! Hey, Harry!”

Perrie and Niall are wandering up the pier toward him, and Harry wonders if his decidedly _not safe for work_ thoughts are written on his face.

“You feeling okay, babe?” Perrie asks worriedly, “You look flushed. Did you forget your sunscreen?”

“Oh, um. No…” Harry stumbles over his words, “No, I’m good. Just got off the boat.”

They chat for a few minutes about the whale watch Harry has just been on, who they’d seen, what had happened. Harry has learned that all the whales seemed to be well-known to the professional biologists, who love to share tidbits and stories about the animals they’ve gotten to know so well.

“I swear to god Patches was posing, too, he kept coming up so close to the boat, and just waving his flukes!”

All three laugh, and then Niall asks, “So, what are you up to later, Harry?” It's Monday, meaning that Harry is done for the day, and has tomorrow off as well. He’s been working hard, and, if he’s being honest, wanking too much thinking about that kiss with Louis, which has been the absolute hottest thing he’s ever experienced in his life. Knowing there is more to come, so to speak, well, you couldn't really blame a guy for getting….excited. Pulling his mind out of the gutter, Harry tunes back into whatever Niall is saying about drinks at Simon’s tomorrow night.

“Sure, yeah,” he says distractedly, feeling his phone burning a hole in his pocket. “That sounds good.”

He waves to the pair as they head into the ramshackle office space on the pier to prepare for the next cruises that are going out that afternoon. He walks briskly down to Commercial Street. When he gets there, he casts a slightly longing look down in the direction of Simon’s and Louis' condo, and then, shaking himself impatiently, he turns left to head back to the intern house. When he gets in, the house is suspiciously quiet. He calls out a cheerful “Hello” but doesn’t hear any answer. Huh. He knows Perrie and Niall are at the wharf office. He wanders into the kitchen and looks on the whiteboard, where they write their weekly schedules. Laurie is off, and he knew she had headed to Cambridge to see her man, but Alice and Maxxie weren’t scheduled to be working and...he hears a sudden, rhythmic sound from the room above him, and a soft, low moan. His eyes widen, and then he grins, turns around, and walks back out the door.

After he makes his way a few hundred feet from the house, he stops and pulls out his phone.

There are a couple of texts from Louis.

LalaLou:     I’m just thinking, it could help us...you know, talk about it or something.  
                  You there? Hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.  
                  Oh, just realized you’re off the boat and heading home! TTYL

Harribo:     Hey! Just got home. Now I’m sexiled. :~(  
                  No I’m not uncomfortable. Just...like, write it all down?

LalaLou:     What do you mean, sexiled? Thought Laurie was away? And yeah, write it down.  
                  That’s usually what you do with a list, isn’t it?

Harribo:     No, Maxxie and Alice. They’re both off today!

Lalalou:      Come over here.

Harry feels his heart begin to beat a little faster. He knows that Zayn is away for a couple of days, as last night Louis had been complaining about having to cook his own dinner. If Harry hadn’t been wiped out from 4 whale watch tours, he so would have gone over there to cook, but he’d been tired and vaguely nauseous from the rougher water that day. He takes a long, shuddering breath and then texts back one word.

Harribo:     Okay

He makes his way back down Commercial street, and heads down the steps to Louis' garden-level front door. He raps loudly, reminded of how it had only been a week ago that Everything Had Changed. He can feel himself starting to get hard already, and he hasn’t even entered the apartment. But, they have some time, and some privacy. Who knows what might happen?

Louis opens the door with a grin, and pulls Harry into a half-hug that does nothing to calm down the semi he’s sporting. Louis appears not to notice, but Harry wouldn’t put it past him to be completely aware. Louis seems...perceptive about these sorts of things.

“C’mon in. How was work? Hey, do you want to grab a shower or something? Since you’ve been sexiled and all before you could even go home?”

The crinkly-eyed grin is on full display as Harry stares at him. As he’d noted before, Louis in all of his un-made-up, casual glory is, well, potent indeed, and Harry has to take a deep breath and clear his throat.

“Um, yeah, that sounds good. I’m all sunscreened and stuff.” He follows Louis down the hallway to what is, presumably, his room. When Louis pushes open the door, Harry looks around with unabashed interest. The hallway runs along the front of the apartment, so both bedrooms have water views. Louis' is the farther one down the hall. “Yeah, it’s the corner room, which is nice. Zayn wanted the other one because the closet’s bigger, and his bathroom is a bit nicer. I like this one though, with windows on two sides.” The room is filled with the midday light, the large windows overlooking the bay and the garden are hung with floaty sheer curtains. It is simply furnished, with a large bed (which Harry carefully tries not to stare at), a dresser, a bookshelf and a side table. Currently spread out on the bed, which is neatly made, Harry notes, are a couple of textbooks and a notebook.

Louis grabs some clothes from the dresser and hands them to Harry. “You can change into these if you want. Help yourself to anything in the bathroom, the towels are clean, I just did laundry. You hungry?” At Harry’s nod, he adds, “I’ll throw some lunch together, we can eat out on the deck.” When Louis gets to the door, he turns and pauses for a moment, “So, I was thinking...over lunch, we can talk about your list?” Without waiting for Harry to answer, he heads out and down the hall to the kitchen.

As the door closes behind Louis, Harry gives out a low, heartfelt groan, and thinks he hears a chuckle in return, moving off down the hall. Turning, willing his cock to behave, he goes into the bathroom. It’s small, but has a large tub and shower, and Harry’s mind inadvertently pictures climbing into a bubble bath with Louis…. _Hold on, that might be too romantic for a FWB arrangement_ he cautions himself.

He gets the shower going and carefully steps in, and begins to wash the sweat and sunscreen of the day off of himself. He realizes that he is going to come out smelling like Louis' herbal mint body wash and shampoo and has to take a deep breath or to calm down the excitement that thought produces. As he cleans his body, he thinks about what might happen this afternoon, and realizes that both his arousal and anxiety are rising. Does he scrub out his, er, bum? Is that presumptuous? Deciding it’s better to be over- than under-prepared, he pays special attention to the relevant areas, which has the unfortunate side-effect of getting his dick harder than it should be for a casual lunch. He wills it to calm down before he heads out to where Louis is, and when the power of his mind proves insufficient to the task, he finishes off the shower with a blast of cold water that leaves him shivering, but more presentable for polite company.

He dries off, and pulls on the shorts and t-shirt Louis handed to him, and heads back down the hallway. Louis is out on the back deck, reading the paper, with a plate of sandwiches, a bowl of grapes and a bag of chips on the table in front of him. There is a pitcher of what appears to be iced tea next to him, and he looks up when Harry slides into the chair beside him, and sets the paper down.

“Find everything you need?”

Harry grins, “Definitely. I really like that herbal mint body wash. Did you get that around here?”

Louis shakes his head, seeming to know exactly what Harry is referring to. “Nah, I brought that from the city, that’s a Whole Foods brand. Zayn’s dad owns the Stop and Shop in Truro, though, they’ve got a really nice selection of stuff, actually, for a Cape store.” His voice trails off, as they serve themselves lunch, and the next few minutes are spent eating.

“Thanks, by the way,” Harry says. “This is really good.”

Louis grins, “I may not be a great cook, but I’m famous for my sandwiches!”

Harry has to agree, ham and cheese with lots of fresh veggies. In one of their first conversations, they’d covered sandwich preferences, as one does, and Harry is touched to see that Louis has remembered his statement that “cucumbers just _make_ a ham sandwich, Louis, they really do!”

“So…” Harry says finally, uncertain, not sure how to go about beginning the conversation.

“Yeah.” Louis looks out over the bay for a moment, and then says, “I hope I didn’t, you know, make you feel uncomfortable, I just think, it’s important that we be able to talk about stuff, what you’re into, what I’m into, you know? Make sure we’re on the same page. Maybe talk about your past experience, like that.”

“Okay.” Harry clears his throat, and takes another sip of iced tea. “So, like, I know I said, until last week, I’d never even kissed a boy.” Their eyes catch, both remembering that explosive moment between them, and then what had happened out on the water. “And, like...because of how my aunt and uncle were, I didn’t really get to watch a ton of porn,” Louis' eyes widen at that, and he looks like he wants to say something, but remains silent, “so, yeah. I mean, I have a good imagination, and I’ve definitely thought about, you know. Stuff.”

Louis' eyes seem to almost twinkle in the bright afternoon sun. “Stuff, Styles? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Well. Like, kissing a guy. Touching him, going down on him? Like that.”

“You asking me or telling me?”

Harry rolls his eyes at the tone, and grins, but when he glances at Louis, oh. Louis' eyes are starting to darken the way that they had during that kiss, and Harry is beginning to recognize that look. Louis is getting turned on from this talk, just like he is. Well, okay. If Louis wants to play, Harry can play.

Harry _really_ wants to play.

Feeling bolder by the second, he says, “So, yeah. I think about being with someone, kissing, and as we’re getting closer, I think about him pressed up against me, chest to chest,” Harry’s voice seems to deepen of its own accord, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as Louis shifts in his chair. “Then he straddles me, and I can feel him, feel how hard he is, and I’m hard too.” Harry presses a hand down on the now-prominent bulge he is sporting, and he hears a sudden sharp intake of breath from Louis beside him. “He’s pressing down on me, and I’m thrusting up against him, and our cocks are rubbing together, and, god Louis, it’s so hot, and I just feel like I’m on fire everywhere.” He pauses, and then asks innocently, “Is that what you mean?”

“Harry,” Louis' voice is a strangled groan, “Jesus, man. Okay, so I guess we can say that you’ve put that vivid imagination to good use?”

Harry smirks, and glances over at Louis, who is staring at him, wide-eyed, a little shocked and a lot turned on. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“So why not a lot of porn?” Louis asks curiously.

“No computer except the desktop in the dining room and no smartphone, not until I moved here.” Harry shrugs. “And just...for so long, I didn’t even really want to admit what I knew, that I was gay. So I just...played a lot of football, worked the farm, studied, you know...distracted myself. I’d wank in the shower, and I guess that was really when I imagined what it might be like with a guy.” He shifts a bit, his erection rubbing against the smooth fabric of the shorts he is wearing.

“And you really never got off with anyone else? What about girls?”

“I did a few times, I don’t know. Most of the time, I didn’t even really get hard, you know? They all thought I was such a good, respectful, Christian boy.” Harry gives a half-hearted smile at that. He glances at Louis, who’s watching him with a soft expression, a sad look in his eyes.

“There was this one girl I dated, Marnie. She was a volleyball player, and she was like, tall and flat chested, and she had these big strong hands, and that was probably the most turned on I ever got. That was 10th grade, and man, we had one makeout session and she jerked me off, and I actually got hard and came, and afterwards, I just went home and lost it, because I just _knew_ , you see, that there was no getting around it.” His voice has gotten quieter as he speaks, and he turns to see a compassionate look on Louis' face. “I knew I was gay, and I wasn’t ever going to be able to be not gay, you know?”

Louis nods, takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I do know. I mean, I wasn’t...I didn’t have to be closeted in that way, but yeah, I know that feeling you’re talking about.” He shakes his head, and then says quietly, “But here we are now, though, right?”

Harry nods, and feels a sense of something that might be comfort and might be hope sink into him. Here they are now, together in this beautiful place on this lovely day, and suddenly Harry doesn’t want to spend another moment living in the past.

Then, Louis stands and says, his words echoing Harry’s thoughts, “Let’s get this lunch stuff cleared up. It’s a gorgeous day, and you and I don’t have to be at work until when, Wednesday, right? There’s nothing better than lounging around on the Harbor with a good beer and a...friend,” he throws a wink over his shoulder at Harry as he carries their plates into the apartment. Smiling, shaking off the somber mood that has come over him, Harry follows.

When they settle back down on the lounger, Louis drapes an arm around Harry’s shoulders and begins running his fingers through Harry’s damp curls, as Harry lets his head tip forward. “So, Styles, that fantasy you told me was pretty hot. Got me...all worked up.”

Without lifting his head, Harry hears his own smile color his voice, “Oh, really, Louis? Gosh. I feel just _terrible_ about that. Is there…” his heart is pounding and it feels like the first time he jumped off the cliffs at Rockland Quarry, “Is there anything I can do to help you with that?”

Louis hums for a moment and then, “Why, yes, I think there is.”

Harry looks up, and there is Louis, _right there,_ looking at him with such affection that Harry smiles involuntarily, and then, repeating the moment from a week ago, Louis murmurs, “Are you sure? We’ll only go as far as you want, Harry, we can take it slow.”

As Harry leans in, he whispers, “That sounds like a great idea for some other time, Louis, but I’m not sure I can take it slow today.”

And then he kisses Louis, first gently, but the kiss rapidly turns scorching as Louis' lips part, and Harry meets his tongue with his own. Louis tastes of ice tea and grapes and sunlight. Louis wraps his arms around Harry, and Harry shifts to meet him, leaning back on one arm and curving the other around Louis' back. The kiss deepens until he feels almost dizzy, and all of a sudden he hears a piercing whistle and a shout of laughter from a couple of guys walking past on the beach. He flushes and pulls back, it hitting him that they are not in private.

Louis' eyes fly open and he is also flushed and looking a bit dazed. “Want to...take this inside?” he asks, clearing his throat. At Harry’s nod, Louis stands up and pulls Harry to an upright position, tugging him down the hall after him.

They stumble into Louis' room, and even though they’re alone in the apartment, Louis shuts the door firmly and then turns suddenly, shoving Harry back up against it, one hand pressing Harry’s shoulder, the other holding Harry’s hand. “Jesus, Harry, what are you doing to me?” He leans in and captures Harry's’ mouth with his own, and Harry can feel the electrical sparks ignite at their three points of contact: shoulder, hands and lips. The kiss seems to go on and on, until Harry is gasping for breath and achingly hard in his shorts.

“Tell me what you want, Harry, Jesus, just tell me!” Louis pants against his mouth.

“Could we...bed, can we get on the bed?” Harry gasps, suddenly feeling that if he doesn’t get his hands on Louis right this second, he may actually, genuinely, spontaneously combust. _And what a fucking glorious way to go,_ he thinks nonsensically.

Louis spins Harry around and pushes him towards the bed, and Harry feels once again the stark contrast between this and his past with girls, where he’d worried about being too strong or too rough, but this. Louis meets him gasp for gasp, push for push. He is just as strong, just as powerful, and Harry knows he doesn’t have to be so careful with Louis.

Louis impatiently shoves the books and papers off to the floor, and Harry lets himself be pushed down to the bed, where he drops onto his back with his head on the pillows, heart and body yearning as he looks at the man moving towards him. He reaches up and pulls Louis down on top of him, the sun streaming through the sheer curtains to light up the room, as their mouths hungrily meet again. Louis collapses onto him, their bodies aligning, and Jesus Christ. Louis presses down against him, chest to chest, legs to legs, groin to groin. He can feel the hard ridge of Louis through the fabric of their shorts, pressed against his own cock, and as Louis shifts his hips above him, they rub together and overwhelmed, Harry shouts, arches up and cries out again, vision whiting out as he comes in his pants.

He freezes in embarrassment, even as his body is still quaking in the aftershocks of what is, quite probably, the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. He groans, flinging one arm over his eyes as he sags back onto the pillows, feeling tears prickling in his eyes as he flushes. He feels Louis still above him, and then hears him say softly, “Harry?”

Harry sighs, and wonders if he can quickly invent some sort of instantaneous personal teleportation device to get him out of what is about to be to be the guaranteed humiliation of Louis feeling sorry for him. “Yeah?”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis whispers. Confused, Harry peeks out from under his arm. ”That was so fucking hot, oh my god.”

“But...but I came so fast.”

Louis scoffs and then says, “yeah, no worries, the first time another guy got his hand on my dick I came all over his backpack in like point-three seconds.”

“Do you...do you want me to go?”

“Oh Harry,” Harry feels Louis push his arm away from his face, and looks up carefully to Louis staring at him with pupils blown, lips reddened and swollen from their frantic kissing moments earlier, and a look of such gentle understanding on his face that Harry thinks his eyes might overflow. Louis leans down, seeming almost unmindful of the fact that he is still as hard as iron, squeezed against Harry’s thigh, to press a gentle kiss against Harry’s lips. “No, I don’t want you to go. It’s not a big deal, and really?” Here his gentle smile turns wicked, “That’s just to take the edge off. Unless,” his expression changes, looks more uncertain, “Do you want to go? Was that not...did you not like that?”

Harry suddenly finds the ridiculousness of the situation amusing. “Um, what part of my coming like an express train makes you think I didn’t like that? I think I just…” he pauses, takes a deep breath. He’s promised himself that he’ll be only honest with Louis, as best he knows how. “That was just so overwhelming, I’ve never felt anything like that before in my life, and I just couldn't, you know…”

He and Louis stare at each for a moment, and then he says softly, “I really don’t want to go, Louis.”

Picking up his courage, he carefully reaches up and places his hand on Louis' belly, and then slides it down to cup the prominent bulge there, his first time touching a cock besides his own. He can feel the heat radiating off of Louis through the thin fabric of his shorts, can feel every line and ridge along the hard length of flesh as he explores the shape of Louis under his fingers. It’s intoxicating as he rubs his thumb along the length of him and Louis moans in response.

His hand stills as he takes a breath, still a bit overwhelmed, not only by the orgasm but by the entire experience. This has been forbidden to him for so long that he can’t help but feel the echoes of that old shame, and for a moment, it threatens to rise within him, until he looks down at Louis, stretched out on the bed, smiling up at him, waiting for him to move at his own pace, and realizes that this can’t be wrong, not when it feels like this. This is what he’s been waiting for his whole life, he realizes.

Louis reaches up and places one hand on Harry’s face and whispers only, “Okay?”

Harry nods, and feels the vestiges of that shame take flight as he leans in to kiss Louis again.

“More than okay. Perfect.” His hand resumes its ministrations and Louis moans, long and low under his touch, “Anyway...I want to make you feel good too.”

Louis' eyes seem to roll back and then slam closed as Harry continues to stroke him through his shorts. His breath catches as he stutters, “I, um, I don’t want to push you to do anything you don’t want to but... _Jesus Christ_.” He still leaning over Harry, and his arms tremble where they’re braced on either side of Harry’s body, and he gasps as Harry carefully circles his thumb over the head of his cock, “Oh god, that’s...yeah, that’s good, what do you want to do, Harry?” His hips jerk involuntarily and Harry feels almost drunk with the power of it.

Harry stills his hand for a moment and then says, “Can I...can I touch you?” He thinks about asking if he can give Louis a blow job, but realizes he’s already feeling overwhelmed, and that maybe he wants to wait a bit on that. “You know, skin to skin? Would that be okay?”

Louis chokes out a laugh, “Okay? Yeah, that would be okay.” He sits up from and quickly pulls off his shirt, and then kicks his shorts and underpants off to the side. He drops down onto the bed and rolls onto his back, blue eyes fixed on Harry as he settles himself against the pillows.

Harry’s mouth goes dry as he stares, taking in the first sight of another man’s aroused, naked body, the strong planes of his chest, the curve of his biceps, his hard... _oh my god._  Harry’s mouth waters and he briefly ponders changing his mind on the blow job thing, but then his hand reaches out almost without conscious volition, and he wraps his long fingers around the firm length, and gives an experimental stroke.

Louis shudders, and Harry loses himself in the sensation of stroking the soft, velvety skin, so similar and yet so different from his own. Louis is clearly fighting to hold himself still as Harry’s hand moves over him, breath punching out in soft “ahh ahh ahhs.” Harry pauses and whispers, “Lube?”

Louis stares at him for a moment before quickly rummaging around in the drawer of the small dresser beside the bed, and pulling out a bottle. He then collapses onto his back as Harry slicks up his hand and gets back to work, varying his grip and speed, and then adding an experimental twist of his wrist that has Louis shouting incoherently and coming into his hand.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

There is silence in the room, and through the window Harry can hear the shouts and laughter of people out on the beach, and wonders briefly how far the noise of what he and Louis have been doing has carried. He flops down on the bed, relaxing next to Louis who is still panting a bit heavily as he recovers from what also looked to have been one damn fine orgasm. Harry feels a small burst of pride that he’s managed to make Louis feel like that. He’s never felt like that with any of the girls he’d been with, never quite felt like he’d known what he was doing, but perhaps, when it comes to handjobs, he’s a natural.

He closes his eyes as he feels Louis get up and move into the bathroom. He hears the water running, and a few moments later, Louis comes out holding a damp washcloth and a towel. He unceremoniously peels off Harry’s sticky shorts and t-shirt, and then proceeds to clean off Harry’s messy hand and body, and the spots where his come had splashed onto his own belly. He tosses the damp cloths haphazardly towards the empty laundry bin, and curls up next to Harry. Pulling up a light afghan, he presses a kiss into Harry’s shoulder, winds his arms around Harry’s body, and whispers, “Sleep now, more later.”

When Harry wakes up, the sun has moved much further down onto the horizon, and a quick glance at the clock shows him that it is 6:30, and they’ve been asleep for close to 2 hours. He yawns, stretches, and makes a face at the taste in his mouth. He glances over, seeing that Louis is still asleep, his lashes fanning out on his cheekbones as he breaths in and out, slow and even. For a long moment, he feels as if he’s suspended outside of time, breathless as he looks at Louis. He feels almost humbled, grateful, as if he’s being given a glimpse of something rare and precious.

Harry carefully disentangles himself from where Louis is draped over him, and heads into the bathroom. He pees, rinses his mouth out with the mouthwash he finds and wonders if it will be awkward when Louis wakes up. He is still feeling a bit...sensitive about how fast he’d come as soon as they’d touched, and, to be honest, is feeling just the tiniest bit let down by all this. Not by Louis, Harry can’t fathom a universe in which he might be disappointed by getting to be with Louis in any way at all, but with his own performance. He’d been hoping for a bit more fun before the big show, as it were. He runs a hand through his sweaty curls and turns on the shower. He is halfway through a very satisfying mental play-by-play of the afternoon’s events, when the door opens and Louis slips into the steamy cubicle and drapes himself over Harry’s back.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Harry tips his head back as Louis begins kissing his neck gently and, oh. Oh. That is nice. Louis maneuvers around and pours some body wash into his hands without ceasing his ministrations to Harry’s neck.

“That’s some impressive multitasking.”

Harry feels Louis' mouth stretch into a smile pressed into his neck as he begins soaping up Harry’s front, hands running from his collarbones all the way down to his... _hello_. Harry moans, feeling himself start to harden as Louis carefully washes him down.

“So…” Louis says, his hands moving busily, “I was thinking about how earlier, that was spectacular, but...you know, perhaps a bit briefer than you’d been hoping for?” He carefully begins sluicing water over Harry’s front and then nudges him to turn around, so they’re face to face. Pressing his forehead against Harry’s, he soaps his hands up again, and runs them down over Harry’s back and began soaping up his bum, which is... _Oh_. Harry moans again, and finds himself pressed up against Louis' hot and wet body, which is a pretty fantastic place to be, if he does say so himself. “And I was thinking, maybe you might want to...go again?”

Harry nods mindlessly, consumed only with the thought of _wet-hot-wet-hot OH MY GOD_ , when Louis steps back and tilts his chin up so their eyes meet. “I need you to use words, Harry. Tell me what you want.”

Harry swallows, and takes a moment, feeling the water streaming down over his shoulders. He looks at Louis, takes in the whole sight of him, and drops to his knees.

Louis' intake is audible. “Harry. Are you sure? You don’t have to, we don’t have to rush anything…” His voice trails off as Harry leans towards him and presses one hot, open-mouthed kiss to his hipbone. “Not everyone wants to suck dick, it’s okay. And words, Harry, c’mon. I need them.”

Harry looks up and grins, suddenly more sure than he’s ever been of anything. “Oh, but Louis? I really, really want to suck your dick.” He pauses and then adds politely, “If that’s okay with you?”

Louis nods slowly, his eyes wide, and Harry takes a deep breath and closes his mouth around the head of Louis' hard cock. He lets himself take a moment to become accustomed to the taste, the smell of Louis' arousal, the weight on his tongue. He hums experimentally as he tongues the slit and notes Louis' hoarse groan.

He hears Louis take another gasping breath and then say, in an attempt to be casual, “So, what do you think? Your first time sucking a dick.”

Harry pulls off. “Honestly, the shower sucks, my knees are killing me.”

Louis bursts out laughing, pulling Harry up to standing and turning off the water. “Well, then let’s get more comfy, huh?”

He grabs towels off the rack and they make their way to the bed. Louis pauses, and turns, opening his arms out wide. “Well, Harold, how do you want me?”

 _Any way you’ll have me._ “Just...get comfortable? On your back.” Harry decides, not sure he is ready to have Louis leaning over him, caging him in.

Louis lays down, propping himself up on his pillows and watching with hooded eyes as Harry settles himself on the bed, and slides down so he is hovering over Louis' groin, mouth slightly open in anticipation. Outside of the shower, it feels both more and less intense. The steam and pounding water had created a lovely, private feeling, and Harry feels oddly more exposed, more vulnerable now. But they’d also been a distraction from what was occurring between them, and now there is nothing to interfere with what’s happening here on the bed, just Louis' compact, curvy body stretched out, waiting for Harry to continue.

Harry sits back for a moment, just to appreciate what Louis is like. Strong muscles, hard chest, that tantalizing curve of his biceps as he puts his hands behind his head, the fine hair under his arms, and the trail leading down his groin. Harry feels his mouth begin to water and lets out an involuntary bark of laughter.

Louis quirks one eyebrow, and Harry just laughs again, “Just realized that looking at you, my mouth is literally watering, and I thought...if I ever had any doubts about being gay, they’re gone.”

Louis smirks, and says, “Well, if the hand jobs and rubbing off on each other didn’t convince you, I’m glad I could be part of the final confirmation, Harry. Now,” he cants his hips up, “...if you see something you like?”

“Oh,” Harry murmurs low in his throat, “I do.”

Louis' head tips back, seemingly involuntarily as Harry’s mouth closes once more over the head of his cock and he begins to suck. He’s never gone down on a girl, and even the idea of that had never appealed to him. It just seemed so messy, really. But this, this is _incredible_. As he licks and sucks, he brings his hand down to the base, to cover the part his mouth can’t reach. As he gives a particularly vigorous suck and laves his tongue over the head, Louis' hips buck and he thrusts into Harry’s throat. Harry feels his gag reflex kick in and quickly pulls off, eyes streaming, and coughs.

“Sorry, sorry! Jesus!” Louis babbles, “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Harry, that was just, holy shit. Are you absolutely sure you’ve never done this before? Because, my god…”

Harry wipes his eyes and grins, “I’m fine, just...can you give me some time to, I don’t know, train up to that? I don’t think I’m quite ready for you to fuck my mouth,” and gets back to the task at hand.

At his words, Louis slumps back on the pillows with a long, low moan and then mutters, “Jesus, Styles, I think you’re going to kill me,” and Harry smirks a bit.

Harry loses himself to the sensations under his tongue and hand, the smell, the taste, the sounds as Louis' cries dissolve into something wilder, more incoherent. It seems like no time at all (although his jaw is beginning to ache in an almost pleasant way), when he hears Louis call out frantically while tapping him gently on the head, “Pull off, Harry, I’m going to…” and Harry quickly does. Louis' abs convulse as he arches up and comes, striping Harry’s chest and chin with his release. _Jesus Christ, I did that_ , Harry thinks, feeling again that smug sense of pride as he watches Louis come undone.

Louis drops back onto the bed, arm over his eyes and chest heaving. “Just, just give me a minute, Harry…” After a moment, Louis brings his arm down, and without lifting his head, turns to look at Harry, grin crinkling his eyes. “I think there’s a chance you might be some kind of gay phenom, Harry. We should probably alert the papers. That was spectacular.”

Harry flushes, “I mean, I don’t know, I guess I just thought about what I would like, you know? I mean, I want you to tell me what you like, what you want too.”

“Wait, what do you mean, what you _would_ like, not what you _do_ like? Haven’t you ever had a blow job, Harry?”

“Nice Christian girls, remember?” Harry can tell his tone is equal parts amused and frustrated from the look Louis gives him.

“Oh boy, Harry. I think you’re going to enjoy this.” Louis sits up and gently pushes Harry down onto his back, and then, indicating Harry's hard cock with flourish, says, “May I, good sir?”

“Oh, you may, indeed!” Harry replies solemnly, heart pounding in anticipation. He feels a sudden sense of fear almost, what if he comes too fast again, what if he is destined to be a flash in the pan kind of guy, what if...his mind goes blank as Louis leans over and without any further ado, sucks him down.

Unlike Harry, Louis has no hesitation in taking Harry deep into his throat. _I guess he’s done this before,_ Harry thinks with a pang, which dissipates quickly as Harry is lost to the sensations happening in his body. Louis’ mouth is hot around him, and it’s as if the entire world narrows down to _wet-heat-suction_ he’s experiencing, and he almost wants to cry from how good it feels. No wank he’s had has ever felt like this.

He struggles to stay still, until Louis pulls off for a moment and says, “It’s okay, Harry, you can move.” Harry’s eyes widen and he props himself up on his elbows for a better view of what is happening. His hips thrust in short, sharp jerks as Louis sucks and licks, grasping the base of Harry’s cock with one strong hand as he moves his head, and all too soon, Harry feels that inevitable heat pooling in the base of his belly, as his balls draw up in preparation.

“Louis,” he gasps, “Louis, pull off, I’m gonna come, Jesus Christ,” but Louis manages somehow to shake his head around the mouthful of Harry’s cock, and isn’t that a mind-blowing sight, to be sure. Louis offers him a cheerful thumbs up, and keeps on working him over with the amazing suction his mouth is providing, and with a shout, Harry comes down his throat. Louis pulls him through it, swallowing around him, releasing him just as the sensation begins to shift to something less pleasant, and Harry collapses back onto the bed, panting, trying to slow his racing heart which is thundering in his ears.

“Oh my god, oh my god. Louis. That was…” Overwhelmed, he stares at Louis, who has moved up and now kisses him thoroughly, and he marvels at the taste of himself on Louis' lips. “Holy shit. Why do people ever do anything else? That was fucking amazing.”

“Well,” Louis says contemplatively, as he curls in next to Harry, Harry’s arm moving automatically to drape around his shoulders and pull him in closer, “Eventually you do get hungry, and the sheets get gross.” He pats Harry’s sticky belly affectionately, and Harry grimaces in response. “I’m thinking we should take a moment to recover, then grab another quick shower, no funny business this time, and go get some food, what do you say?”

Overwhelmed at how amazing the day is turning out to be, how easy Louis is making all of this, Harry just nods in response. “That sounds good.”

**June 22nd**

Harry can’t believe that the intensity, the fucking ecstasy really, of the first day could be ever be matched, but having the apartment to themselves for the entirety of Tuesday has challenged that notion, and the blowjob Louis gives him in the shower Wednesday morning before sending him back to his own house to pick up clothes and get ready for work lays all his concerns to rest.

When he arrives back at the intern house, he walks into all of his housemates, minus Laurie who is apparently still shacked up with her guy in Cambridge, sitting around the kitchen table and grinning at him as he slinks in the front door.

“Why, Harry!” Perrie gasps in mock alarm, “are you okay? We had no idea you weren’t sound asleep in your bed! Since no one had seen you since Monday afternoon, we thought maybe you were just in there, not feeling well!”

“In all seriousness, ya knob,” Niall adds, “next time you’re off on a sexation, fucking text us and let us know, or just fucking answer your phone for a moment.”

Harry flushes, and realizes that he hasn’t checked his phone in days. He pulls it out of his bag, noting the multiple missed calls and texts from his worried friends. “I’m so sorry, guys,” he said, “I guess I just…”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Niall replies, “We just woulda been really worried if Zayn hadn’t told us you were with Louis.”

Harry wonders if this is what actual human combustion might look like. He stutters, “Err, we were, um, just…”

Perrie raises one impeccably groomed eyebrow at him, and says, “Yes? You were just…?”

“Oh god.” Harry drops into an empty chair, flushing in embarrassment and realizing that he and Louis haven’t actually clarified what, if anything they are going to be telling their friends.

Alice asks quietly, “So, are you guys, like, together? Dating?” He shakes his head. “No, just, like a friends with benefits thing.”

Four concerned faces look back at him as he glances around the table. “What?”

“Well,” says Niall delicately, “I mean, you’ve been rather taken with the lad since you met him…”

“What? No, I haven’t!” Harry protests as his wretched, meddling housemates burst into laughter. “And Niall, it was your idea anyway!”

Niall looks a bit surprised and then nods as he remembers. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I was high, wasn’t I? Didn’t I warn you, Harry? Sometimes high me is a genius, but sometimes high me is a fucking idiot. It’s not always easy to tell.”

“Besides, Harry,” snorts Maxxie, “the first time we went grocery shopping, you spent 10 minutes speculating what kind of fruit he likes!”

“Grapes and oranges,” Harry says without thinking, and then blanches, staring at them. It’s not that he hadn’t known he was nursing a bit of a crush on Louis. That had been obvious but it’s starting to hit him that this may be more than just a crush. This may be a real problem.

“Look, I know I’ve got a crush on him, okay? But I’ll just have to manage it. He’s a great guy, and I think we’re really becoming friends, and the rest of it, well, I’ll just have to not let him know.”

He ignores the identical looks of worry and gets up. “Anyway, I need to grab a shower and get to work. It’ll be fine, guys, I’m sure.”

When he gets into the office later that morning, Ben, the intern manager, grabs him. “Harry, hey! I know it’s last minute, but we just got word of a new grant that NCCOS posted on Monday, I tried calling you yesterday about it, but maybe your phone was dead?”

Harry thinks guiltily of just what exactly he might have been doing when Ben called, and says, “Um, yeah, it’s um, having battery trouble.”

Ben continues, not seeming to notice Harry’s awkward stammer, “Well, they want a quick turnaround on this, it’s due next Wednesday, so we’re going to pull you off the whale watches for the next week and give you a crash course in grant writing.” He looks expectantly at Harry, as if Harry should be delighted at this news.

Harry tries for cheerful, “Oh. Okay. That sounds...yeah, that sounds fine.”

“C’mon, let’s get started.”

**June 23rd**

Harribo:     Not gonna make it tonight. :(((

LalaLou:     Don’t worry about it, Haz. I’m singing all summer. There’s no shortage of opportunity for you to see me!

Harribo:     Boo. I really wanted to be there. I think this grant is going to SUCK MY WILL TO LIVE

LalaLou:     ...thought that was my job?

Harribo:     Oh my god. Yes please?

LalaLou:     Any chance you’ll be off Monday afternoon?

Harribo:     Doubtful. We’ll see.

Louis sends back a sad-face emoji and Harry sighs, putting his phone away to return to the grant.

**June 28th**

Harribo:     SOUND THE ALARM IT IS DONE AND SUBMITTED

LalaLou:     I’m home. Get your ass over here now.

Harry bursts out of the office into the gorgeous warmth of a hot, sunny, perfect late June afternoon. He thinks his heart may pound out of his chest and he is already stiffening up in his jeans (he’s learned quickly to wear warmer clothes on days he is only in the office as Ben keeps the AC at something slightly warmer than arctic, but only slightly). He flies down Commercial Street, barely hindered by the semi he’s sporting, making the 15 minute walk in something closer to 9 minutes. As he knocks loudly on the door, he doubles over, gasping to catch his breath. The door opens to a startled Zayn.

“Hey, Harry. Are you okay? Do you want some water? Did you just... _run_ here?” Harry moves into the apartment, noting the amused look on Zayn’s face. Okay, so yeah, he obviously knows.

“Um, yeah, water would be great.” Harry takes some deep breaths, willing his heart, and dick, to calm down. He accepts the glass from Zayn and downs it quickly. “So, uh, is Louis here?” he asks casually, “he invited me over to um…”

“Yeah.” says Zayn “I know. I’m gonna just...go over to Liam’s for the afternoon, so that you can...um...” and with that, the dark-haired man winks at Harry, grabs his messenger bag and slips out the door, shutting it behind him with a decisive click. The resulting silence is deafening and it only heightens Harry’s excitement.

Harry kicks off his shoes and heads into the apartment. He takes a quick, surreptitious sniff under his armpit and makes a face. Maybe he should have gone home for a shower after all. He hears some noises from Louis' room as the door opens and the man himself walks out, calling, “Zayn, did you…Oh. Harry. I. Um, I wasn’t expecting you for a few more minutes.”

Harry drops his bag with a thud in the middle of the floor, and starts stalking towards Louis, who eyes him with a mixture of amusement and confusion. “I ran here. _All the way here_. I couldn’t wait. Needed to get my hands on you now, it’s been a whole fucking week.” Harry can hear the hoarse rasp of desire in his voice and doesn’t care at all. Because he’s here and Louis is here and it’s all he’s been able to think about this entire fucking week. Aside from whales.

“Hey,” Louis protests laughingly, “That wasn’t my fault! You’re the one with the crazy gra-mph!” His words are cut off as Harry reaches him, crashing their mouths together hungrily, feeling the first moment of relief for this need inside of him since he’d left Louis a week ago.

Unable to stop himself, Harry shoves Louis up against the hall wall, moving forcefully against him, letting Louis feel the press of his already achingly hard cock in his jeans, the rigid length bearing down on Louis' own softer cock, which is starting to take notice. Harry kisses Louis until neither of them can breathe, and then, pulling off with a gasp, he begins mouthing his way down Louis' sharp jawline, making his way to the collarbones visible through the swooping neckline of his tank top.

Harry’s head is swimming, consumed with this need to get close, closer, as close as he can be to Louis. There is something he’s read about called an event horizon, that boundary around a black hole, where, once it’s crossed, nothing can escape the black hole’s pull. As Harry kisses Louis, he thinks that maybe he crossed Louis’s event horizon the first time he saw him, helpless now to do anything but fall.

“Hold on,” Louis gasps, “Zayn, Zayn.” He can’t quite seem to form a coherent thought, Harry notes with a dark thrill of triumph running through him. He is pretty sure that Louis harbors no stronger feelings for him than friendship, but this, the attraction between them, _this_ at least is real, tangible, and Harry hopes in the end, that it will be enough. It’s going to have to be.

“He just left for Liam’s,” he whispers, and then sinks his mouth back down onto Louis' neck, sucking and kissing every spot he can reach. He notes that every time he sucks, Louis moans and his hips buck up, his now-hard cock grinding into the press of Harry against him, until, Harry sucks and bites down with more force than finesse, and then reaches down and presses one hand firmly against Louis' hard cock, and Louis is shouting and shuddering, coming in his pants.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, sliding down the wall as his knees seem to give out. Harry leans over him propped on his forearm against the wall, struggling to catch his own breath, as Louis sprawls on the ground, panting. “Jesus, Harry.”

Harry freezes, suddenly embarrassed by how strong he’d come on, no pun intended, even though he is still so hard in his jeans, he thinks a stiff breeze might finish him right off. “Oh god, I’m sorry, Louis, was that…”

Louis holds up one hand to silence and then says fiercely, “Don’t you even fucking dare.” He reaches up and yanks down Harry’s zipper and quickly tugs his jeans and underwear down just far enough so that his achingly hard cock springs free. He spits into his palm and then, with more passion than technique, grabs Harry by the hip and begins roughly jerking him off, a steady stream of filth coming from his mouth.

“So fucking hot, Jesus Christ, your dick is gorgeous. C’mon Harry, come for me, fuck, I can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” and with a cry that feels wrenched from his very core, Harry comes, spilling over Louis’ fist to spatter on the hallway floor.

Harry sinks down the wall as Louis shifts so they’re sitting side-by-side, chests heaving with legs splayed out as they recover.

Harry tries again, “I just. Um. Sorry, Louis, I hope that was okay.”

Louis coughs out a laugh, “No, my god, Harry, that was incredible. It was just, you know, a bit unexpected. You’re gonna have to give me a minute though, I’m not sure my legs work any more.”

Relieved, Harry tilts his back against the wall, trying to get his breathing under control. They are silent for a moment, the air filled only with the sounds of their gasping breaths, until they have both calmed down. Louis rolls onto his side and makes a face. “I’m all sticky now, Styles. And,” he sniffs exaggeratedly, “You stink.” He clambers to his knees and then to standing, and leans to yank Harry up as well. “C’mon, let’s take round 2 into the shower?” Tugging Harry by the hand, he pulls them both down the hall and into his room.

**June 30th**

Harry drops his bag on the floor and flops onto his bed. It was a windy day out on the water, and his stomach still hasn’t settled. He takes a deep breath, rolls over and stretches. It’s about 6:30 and he wonders idly what his housemates are up to tonight. He grabs his phone and turns it on, and then pauses as he catches sight of the date. It’s the 30th, the last day of the month. He’s been here in Provincetown for an entire month. And what a month it’s been.

It’s not that he’s forgotten what’s happened, he thinks. It’s more that he’s so immersed in this new life, these new experiences, the new friends he’s made, _in Louis,_ that he just hasn’t thought a whole lot about the loss he’s endured. Sometimes it will hit him, something will stir a memory and he’ll be breathless from the pain of it, but he’s learning, pain always passes, and in any case, whenever he’s missing home and his old life, he’s can’t help but remember the look on his mom’s face when she said her final words to him, her voice flat and implacable. He remembers the silence from his dad and brother, and while, it doesn’t make it easier, he consoles himself with the knowledge that he’d had no choice. They’d given him no choice but to leave.

He makes a mental note to check on his phone bill. Now that he’s got for his own account, since his parents had terminated his line on their account, he needs to be responsible. He quickly opens the webpage, wishing again that he had the money for a laptop. When he gets to Brown and his financial aid comes through, then he can think about it, but not now. With his finances on the brain, he pulls up his bank app, feeling grateful that he’d gotten his own account when he’d turned 18. He doesn’t think his folks would have taken his money, but he also never thought they’d kick him out. Of course, since he never planned to come out while at home, he never thought they’d even find out his secret. His life of late seems to be made of the things he never thought would happen, both good and bad.

He logs into his account. Harry had been proud of how much he’d saved to get himself to Brown, but looking at the number, he frowns. It’s a bit lower than he’d expected, and as he reviews the activity on his account, he notes that he’s been taking out more cash than he’d realized. He looks more closely at the record, runs some numbers in his head and sighs. It’s not like Harry’s not used to budgeting. Like so many farm families, his family’s capital was all tied up in their land and equipment, so he’d always been aware of cash flow. They’d had lean years where they’d needed assistance just to get enough to eat, and then years when there’d been an amazing crop. Harry understands how important money is. It’s not even that Harry had been expecting financial support from his parents - he’s known that they can’t help him, and had planned accordingly. But he had always believed that if things got really bad, at least he had a safety net. He’d never thought that he couldn’t go home.

It’s clear, he’s got to rein in the spending and his stomach curdles at the reminder he gives himself. _You don’t have that net anymore_.

At that moment, his phone chimes with an incoming text.

LalaLou:     Hey! What time you heading over?

Harry sighs. That’s right. He’s supposed to go to Simon’s tonight, and Louis had said something about going dancing after he and Zayn finished their set.

Harribo:     I don’t think I can make it tonight.

LalaLou:     Boo. Why not? Not feeling good? It was windy today!

It would be an easy out, Harry thinks. But then, he reminds himself of his promise to be honest.

Harribo:     No $. I’ve been spending a lot lately, gotta tone it down.

There’s a pause as the three dots indicate Louis is typing something. They disappear, nothing comes through, and then reappear again.

LalaLou:     I have an idea. Hold please.

So Harry tosses his phone onto the bed, grabs his shower stuff and heads into the bathroom. He can hear Niall playing guitar softly in his room and the chatter from the women downstairs, and smiles to himself. He might not have a safety net back in Minnesota, but in just one month, this crazy household has come to feel like home, and that counts for a lot.

When he gets back to his room, he sees his phone light up with another incoming text.

LalaLou:     You guys are on the list.

Harribo:     List? What list?

LalaLou:     Well, okay. It’s not an ACTUAL LIST. But with the bouncers. I talked to Marcus and Jackson, and they’ll know to let you guys in. I didn’t even think about it, H. Sorry.

Harribo:     Like, for tonight? Are you sure? Are they allowed to do that?

LalaLou:     No, for the season.

Harribo:     WHAT? Louis. No - that’s. Gosh, that’s a lot.

LalaLou:     Shut up. I’ll explain it later. Just come tonight, okay?

Harribo:     Okay.

When he approaches Simon’s later, he feels awkward as he waits in the short line to get in the door. When he approaches, Marcus just grins, winks, stamps his hand and waves him in when he pulls out his wallet. “Harry, don’t be stupid, Louis’s got you on the list.”

Harry stuffs his wallet back into his pocket and heads in. What the hell exactly is this list?

As he heads to his regular table over in the corner, laughing a bit at himself as he thinks of the wide-eyed awe he’d experienced his first time coming here, and now it’s come to feel almost as comfortable as his own living room.

Tonight’s show is an 80s theme, and Harry laughs hysterically as Zayn and Louis strut out onto the stage in full Olivia Newton-John Physical-era regalia. After the show, he watches Kylie approach with a drink in hand, which she sets down in front of him. “Uh, Kylie? I didn’t order this?”

She just rolls her eyes at him and says,“Louis,” and walks away, as if that is a complete explanation. Which, Harry muses, it sort of is.

The man himself drops into the chair across from Harry about 10 minutes later, and gives a wicked grin. He’s not on duty for mingling, he’d mentioned to Harry earlier. Harry still doesn’t quite understand all of the intricacies of how Simon runs the club, so he had just nodded to himself.

Louis is looking particularly dangerous this evening, Harry notes, observing the glint in Louis' eyes. He’s wiped most of the heavy eye makeup off, and changed into skinny jeans and a loose tank top, but kept the headband holding back his hair, which, Harry realizes, is a bit longer now than when they met. He looks lean and a bit sinister as he grabs Harry's drink and takes a large sip.

He sets the drink down and says primly, “Hello, Harry.”

Harry leans back and smirks, answering in the same tone, “Hello, Louis.”

They look at each other and then Harry says, “So.” He quirks one eyebrow. “What is this list you were talking about?”

“Oh.” And all of a sudden Louis looks almost uncomfortable, and his gaze skitters away from Harry’s. “It’s just a thing we can do. Like, if we have a significant other or something, Simon kind of turns a blind eye and the bouncers just let them in without paying the cover. I mean,” he says hastily, looking back at Harry but not quite meeting his eyes, “I know you’re not. We’re not, like, dating or anything, but yeah. I just, I like having you here and you seem to like coming. And I know,” here his gaze softens, “like we don’t talk about it a lot, but I know it’s been tough, and money’s tight. And anyway, I’ve never put anyone on the list so why not?”

Harry just smiles, and drinks, ignoring the small pang at Louis' comment about them not dating. “That’s really cool, Louis. Thank you.”

It’s just a bit confusing, is all. There are moments where he wonders if just maybe this could be something more, but then Louis will make sure to say something about how they’re not dating, and Harry doesn’t know what to think. He gives a small sigh and tells himself, _Louis would tell me if he wanted this to be more than a friends with benefits, and since he hasn’t…_ He tunes back into the story Louis is telling, and then, as they chat some more about their day, and they’re joined by Zayn and Liam.

“So,” Zayn says, “we’re heading over to the Maritime. You boys wanna come?”

Louis' eyes widen briefly at that and he says, “Upstairs or down?”

Liam gives a grin that is surprisingly sultry, “Gonna start downstairs and see…” his hand slides down to cup Zayn’s ass though his skinny jeans, “we’ll see where the night takes us.”

Confused, Harry wonders what they’re talking about. Louis leans across the table and says, “It’s a bar down the street, with a couple of dance floors. The downstairs is pretty typical, but upstairs can get...racy.”

Harry feels his heart start to pound. Racy? He has a feeling that racy in Provincetown maybe a whole new level of risque for him. “Sounds...interesting. You go there a lot?”

Louis just laughs. “I haven’t been yet this season, idiot, I haven’t had time. But I’m definitely in the mood to dance. You in?”

 _Summer of yes,_ Harry reminds himself. He thinks quickly of the meager contents of his wallet and sighs. He’ll start better budgeting tomorrow, he promises himself. “Yeah, I’m in.”

They head down the street into the bar. Harry protests when Louis pays the cover for both of them, but Louis just ignores him, guiding him into the building with a hand on his lower back. He can feel the warmth of Louis’ touch burning through the the thin fabric of his t-shirt and reminds himself not to lean back into Louis’ touch. They’re not like that. They’re just friends.

The four of them walk down a set of wide, worn stairs, and through the french doors into the dingy club, where the music is pounding and the dance floor is surprisingly full for a Thursday night. Zayn and Liam immediately head to the bar and order a couple rounds of shots, and again, wave Harry’s money away. Harry frowns, but finally thanks them, quickly downing the shots. He has to work tomorrow, so he can’t get too drunk, but he’s not scheduled until 1, and it’s only about 10 now. He’s got some time to play.

They head to the dance floor, and Harry can feel the tequila hitting him as they start to move. Louis is, Harry is unsurprised to see, a spectacular dancer. Harry’s seen him move on stage, of course, but this is different. Here he’s clearly not working off of any script, eyes closed as his body twists and turns, and Harry is breathless, helpless to do anything but move in orbit around him. He’s never done _this_ before, danced with a man in public, and his heart is pounding in his throat in fear and excitement. _You’re safe here,_ he reminds himself, _it’s okay._

He can’t help watching the men around him, bodies moving under the flashing lights. He turns to Louis and his throat goes dry, watching the way Louis moves to the music only brings to mind other, more private moments, where they’ve moved together. They dance until they’re both sweating with the effort in the small room, and after a while, Harry wonders where Zayn and Liam have gotten to. He leans in and asks Louis this question, and Louis steadies himself, hand on Harry’s waist.

“I expect they’ve gone upstairs. Things can get..outta hand up there.” Louis leans back and Harry knows now what that dark and hooded look means, but all Louis says is, “We can stay down here, it’s cool, Harry.”

But Harry leans back, head spinning a bit, and breathes into Louis' ear, “Show me upstairs, Louis. I want to.”

Without another word, Louis grabs Harry by the wrist and tugs him through the crowd of writhing bodies to the back of the room and up a narrow stair case.

The upstairs level is even darker than downstairs. There are several large tvs and Harry’s eyes widen as he takes in the material being broadcast. He sees a bar at the back, with what looks like baskets of condoms on it, and as he glances around, he sees men, shirtless, grinding against each other. He sees hands being slipped into tight pants, and when he looks towards the back of the room, he can see several couples pressed up against the wall in the shadows. And then he catches sight of Liam. He doesn’t see Zayn at first, just Liam leaning against the wall, head tilted back in ecstasy and as Harry looks more closely, he sees Zayn on his knees in front of him, and... _dear_ _god_. Harry feels himself harden even more in his shorts as he watches Liam give a shout and shudder as he clearly comes down Zayn’s throat. Harry turns to Louis with wide eyes, who is watching him closely.

Louis leans in. “Too much?”

Harry pauses and thinks, then shakes his head in a firm _No_. Slowly, he takes Louis by the hand, and pulls him onto the dance floor. Then Harry turns and presses himself against Louis, back to front, and they begin to dance. He closes his eyes and loses himself to the throb of the bass, reveling in the feel of Louis' body against his own. As they dance, he becomes more and more aware of Louis behind him. He can feel the hard surface of Louis' chest against his back, and jolts as he feels Louis' mouth on his neck as his hands slide down to hold Harry’s hips firmly. He winds his own arms behind him to pull Louis closer, and he can feel it, Louis is hard against him. The thought that people might be watching, that they might be able to see what Louis is doing to Harry, causes him to moan low in his throat, and by the way Louis' breath stutters in his ear, he knows Louis hears him.

The music changes, slows a bit and Harry smiles, eyes still closed, as the words ring in his ears.

 _Baby, this is what you came for_ __  
_Lightning strikes every time she moves_   
And everybody's watching...

Louis' hands move as he holds Harry so close that there’s no space between them, and he’s got his mouth on Harry’s neck as his hands slide, one up under Harry’s shirt, his skin slick with sweat, to start massaging his chest, and the other to the waistband of Harry’s shorts, and he’s so thankful he wore the looser pair tonight as he sucks in his stomach to give Louis better access.

Harry removes one hand from where he’s been grabbing at Louis and places it over Louis' hand on his waistband. Louis freezes for a moment and then Harry presses Louis' hand _down._ Harry feels more than hears Louis' groaned exhale, and then Louis' hand slips down into Harry’s shorts, and Harry is lost.

Louis manages to wrap his hand around Harry’s cock and Harry’s hips shift as he feels himself getting even harder at Louis' touch, moaning as he feels Louis nip at the tendons in his neck that he knows are standing out in stark relief as his head tips back onto Louis' shoulder. Louis is full-out grinding against him now and they’ve given up all pretense of dancing.

There’s not a lot of room for Louis' hand to move, so he contents himself with running his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock, while holding him tightly. Harry feels his arousal building with every gentle stroke and is shocked to find he’s already getting close, riding that white-hot edge as long as he can. Then Louis' other hand takes one nipple and rolls it between his finger and thumb and Harry is gasping as he spills his release into Louis' tight fist. He hears Louis swear fervently, and then his hips lose their rhythm and he’s pressing his forehead between Harry’s shoulder blades as he just holds on and rides out his own peak.

_Baby, this is what you came for._

By unspoken agreement, Louis and Harry take a moment to recover, and then Louis whispers, “Let’s get out of here, huh?”

Feeling a bit dopey from the orgasm, Harry just nods and obediently follows Louis across the dancefloor, down the stairs, and shivers as the cool air hits his skin, making a face as he becomes more aware of the unpleasant stickiness of his shorts.

They walk in silence for a moment, and just as it starts to feel uncomfortable, Louis clears his throat. “Uh, was that...I hope that was okay?”

Harry stops so suddenly that Louis crashes into him. “Was that okay? Jesus, Louis, that was so fucking hot.”

“I just,” Louis pauses as if looking for the right words, “I just know you don’t have a lot of experience, and I don’t want to push you. And I don’t know, I’ve never actually...you know, up there before.”

Harry laughs, shakes his head as he gives Louis a nudge with his hip, “Louis, you're not pushing me, okay? I’m a big boy, I can say yes or no. And damn. I had no idea. But that…” he licks his lips at the memory, “That was hot.” He pauses, and then says, “Wait, you’ve never...with anyone up there?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, it was never really my scene, I guess. I mean, I’ve been downstairs to dance. Zayn and Liam like to go upstairs, but I just never did. Not until now.” His voice is full of wonder, and Harry can’t help the secret thrill of satisfaction that he gets to give Louis a first too.


	4. July 2016

**July 3rd**

Harry answers the last email asking about dates and times for Whale Watch cruises, thankful for the cut and paste option. He grumbles to himself as he careful shuts down the office computer, _how difficult would it be to Google it?_

Niall comes out of the back room, and does a double take when he sees Harry.

“What’s with the sour puss, Harry?”

Harry stares at him. “Are you really a young guy? Or are you actually your own grandma, transposed into the body of a twenty-one year old guy?”

Niall snorts and grins. “Oddly enough, my friend, you’re not the first person to say such a thing to me.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Color me schmocked, Niall.”

“Seriously,” Niall stands behind Harry and digs his thumbs into the knots in Harry’s shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve seen such a grumpy look on you before. What gives?”

“Just so many emails asking for information that’s on the fucking website! I mean, if they looked on the site to get our email address, how hard would it be to click on the link for the schedule? Anyway, whatever. I’m just tired, I guess. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Harry had woken up at about 2 after a nightmare of being stuck in a corn maze, looking for Louis, and not being able to find him. He isn’t oblivious to the symbolism, but doesn’t have the energy to think too deeply into it. Niall hits a particular tender knot and he groans as his head tips forward onto the desk.

“What are you doing now?” Niall asks, as he gives Harry one last squeeze, and then moves to gather his own things.

“Uh, I think,” Harry blushes, “I think I’m going to head over to Simon’s. Louis and Zayn are on first tonight, and they’re doing their duets program again, so I thought I’d go listen for a bit. I’m not going to stay for the whole show, I’m tired.”

Niall elbows Harry and snickers, “I just bet you are!”

Harry ignores Niall’s gentle teasing as they close up the office, Harry carefully locking the door, and they head back to the house. He decides to grab a quick bite at home and then heads to the club early. Louis has offered to show him around backstage as long as he is there by 7:20, because he needs time to get warmed up for the performance. When he arrives, Marcus waves him through without even looking up from his phone. Harry steps into the club, and sends Louis a quick text to let him know he is there, and by the time Harry reaches the front of the room, Louis is standing on the stage, waiting for him.

As always, seeing Louis in his Miss Lala regalia is a punch to the gut. He’s already in full make up, but not yet in his gown, instead wearing a flowing silk robe of a deep lapis with roses embroidered on it. He’s gone for the black curls tonight, Harry notes, and seeing him like this, well he can’t be blamed if it makes his mouth water just a bit. They’ve both been busy since their night out “dancing” at the Maritime, and Harry is feeling a bit on edge. Louis has invited him to Simon’s friends and family party for the 4th tomorrow, and Harry is hoping they’ll get time together on Tuesday, but he has to admit, seeing Louis like this does...things to him. As he gets closer, he lets his eyes skim down over Louis' curves, and then brings them up to see Louis laughing at him.

“See something you like, Styles?” He plays into the cliché, popping his hip as he folds his arms across his chest, the full sleeves of the robe rustling with his movement.

Harry smirks, letting his eyes wander more freely. “Always, Louis. Always.”

They grin in amusement at each other for another long moment and then Louis says, “Well, let me give you the grand tour.”

He pulls Harry into the wing and then down a hall. “We’ve got costume and prop storage down there, and here’s the dressing rooms. Zayn and I and some of the other ladies are in here.”

He shoves open the door and ushers Harry into a crowded dressing room, with several people in various states of undress standing around. Zayn is sitting at one of the mirrors, carefully applying makeup, and gives Harry a casual wave when he sees him. “Hey babe, how’s it going? Good day with the megafauna?”

Harry snickers. “Yeah, it was great. Good crowds too. I can’t believe Simon’s closing for the 4th, though, seems like that’d be a big business day for him.”

Zayn shrugs. “Who knows why Simon does anything. His 4th of July party is tradition at this point. You’re all coming tomorrow, yeah?”

“Laurie, Maxxie and Alice are working the fireworks cruises, but Perrie, Niall and I’ll be there.”

Zayn turns back to his preparations with a smile, and Harry grins as their eyes met in the mirror.

Harry turns back to Louis and watches as the other man leans into the mirror, touching up his lipstick. Unable to help himself, he reaches out one hand and skims it over the silk-clad curve of Louis' hip. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Harry’s mouth goes dry. “Louis…” he murmurs, the sound almost inaudible over the chatter in the room. He takes a deep breath, reminds himself to lock it down.

“So, is there anything else to see?”

Louis finishes up with his lipstick. “Mm, not really, just the rehearsal room.”

“I’d like,” Harry coughs and clears his throat, “I’d like to see that too.”

Oblivious, Louis checks the time. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be starting warm-ups soon anyway.” He turns and steers Harry out of the chaos of the dressing room and down the hall. He opens the door to a small room with a mirrored wall that holds only a grand piano with the lid down and a couple of music stands. He flips on the light. “Ta dah! This, dear Harry, is where the magic happens.”

Harry swallows and steps towards Louis. “I’m sure it does.”

Louis turns, catching Harry’s tone and rolls his eyes. “For Christ’s sake, Harry? Really?”

Harry again runs his hand over Louis' hip and whispers, “Louis. Please. Can I?”

Louis leans back against the piano, his robe curling around his legs. “Can you what, Harry? Because I didn’t just spend a half hour on this face for you to mess it up.”

Harry moves in, pushing Louis back against the piano, and begins pressing kisses against his neck as he slides his hands under the dressing gown and down Louis' side. He feels Louis shiver and then go still, and a thrill goes through him at the knowledge that he can affect Louis this way.

“I’ll be quick, Louis. Just want to make you feel good and...relaxed before your show.” His hand moves down slowly between Louis' legs and cups his burgeoning erection, grinning when he realizes that Louis is completely bare under the heavy silk, and when Louis hisses as Harry runs his thumb over the tip of his cock, Harry knows he’s going to give in.

Louis raises one eyebrow. “We’ve got about twenty minutes before Zayn and Liam get down here to run warmups, and I still have to get into my gown. I don’t know…” his voice trails off, and Harry can hear the indecision within it.

Harry grins. “I can make it fast. I just, I’ve been dying to get my mouth on you, _Christ_ , Louis.” He moves suddenly and lifts Louis up onto the piano. Louis sprawls out, looking surprised but undeniably turned on, his robe gaping open and Harry can see the heavy line of his cock resting against his thigh as his legs part.

Harry pulls the piano bench around to the side of the instrument, and kneels on it, giving thanks for the heavy padding protecting his knees. This puts him at exactly the right height to get his mouth on Louis, and as he leans forward, he can see his reflection in the mirror to his right and, oh, now that’s a sight to behold. Louis is leaning back, resting on his elbows, his body framed by the deep blue of the robe, and Harry yanks him closer and slowly closes his mouth over the head of Louis' cock. He watches himself sink down in the mirror, and pulls Louis so his hips rest at the edge of the piano, his legs slung over Harry’s shoulders as Harry buries his face between Louis' thighs.

He’s only done this a few times, and he’s still learning his way around a cock that’s not his own, so to speak, so he takes a moment to simply work his mouth around the tip, running his tongue over the small slit at the end, inhaling the now familiar scent of Louis, and is gratified as Louis moans and his body slumps back onto the piano. Mindful of the time, Harry begins sucking in earnest, moving his head enthusiastically as he takes more of Louis into his mouth, reveling in the taste and smell of him. Louis' hips begin moving subtly, as if he can’t help himself, and Harry shifts with him, covering the base of his cock with his hand. This feels both shockingly new and unbearably familiar at the same time and he gives himself over to the feeling that shimmers in the center of his chest.

He can’t help moaning as he watches in the mirror, Louis sprawled wantonly on the piano, Harry kneeling in front of him, head bobbing, lips spread wide around the other man. Louis is moving more urgently now and Harry realizes that he’s looking at the mirror as well, watching himself thrust into Harry’s mouth and Harry realizes he’s shockingly close to the edge. He almost misses it when Louis throws his head back, gasping out a warning, and decides, what the hell, and stays latched on, sucking hard, and suddenly Louis' cock pulses and a slightly bitter, salty warmth fills his mouth. He watches in the mirror as Louis cries out and dear god, it’s almost enough. There’s something about watching a perfectly made-up Louis come undone like this that is so, so hot. He presses a hand hard to his own throbbing erection and that’s all it takes. He’s overwhelmed, pulling off of Louis' still-pulsing cock as he explodes in his jeans, sobbing out his orgasm as he presses his head against Louis' thigh, the last of Louis' come splashing on his cheek and jaw. He swallows what’s still in his mouth and tries to catch his breath.

Louis' chest is heaving as he stares at the ceiling, still sprawled across the piano. They stare at each other and then Louis mutters, “Fucking Christ, Harry, you’re gonna to be the death of me. And Jesus, look at you, you’re a mess.” His eyes darken in appreciation as he takes in the sight of Harry kneeling on the bench next to him. Then he sighs. “Fuck, Li and Z are going to be here any minute and I’m still not even dressed.”

Louis sits up, slides off the piano and tucks the robe around him. He looks around the room and spots a rag on the floor. He grabs it up and carefully wipes Harry down, smiling gently as he does. “Look at you,” he murmurs, running his thumb over Harry’s lips, and the moment feels electric as Harry stares at him. “Just look at you.”

He helps Harry stand and carefully slides the bench back into its proper position. He presses a gentle kiss against Harry’s lips, and then laughing, carefully wipes away the lipstick stain he’s left, and says, “I’ve got to finish getting ready. Are you staying for the show?”

Harry shakes his head, starting to come down from his high. “Would you be upset if I left? I’m actually really tired, and now,” he grimaces, looking down at his crotch, “I’m all messy. Think I might just go home, take a shower and go to bed.” He looks anxiously at Louis, not wanting to disappoint him, but Louis just smiles gently.

“Of course. Don’t worry about it, Harry.”

Louis walks him back down the hall, passing Liam and Zayn who give them knowing looks and break into laughter as soon as they pass by, and out onto the stage. Harry squeezes Louis' hand gently as he moves away and turns back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Louis' eyes are shining and Harry hopes it’s not completely obvious what they were just doing, though the lovely flush disappearing down into Louis' robe may be a giveaway.

“Definitely. I’ll come by and get you? We can walk over together?”

Harry doesn’t point out that this has Louis walking directly past Simon’s to his place, and tries to squash the small jolt of excitement that surges through him at the offer. Friends, he reminds himself, they’re friends, and that’s definitely something friends would do, right?

Right.

**July 4th**

Harry wanders through the empty club, which feels entirely different with the house lights on, and all the chairs up. He can hear the laughter out on the back deck and with Perrie and Niall right behind him, he heads out into the afternoon sun. He recognizes many of the faces in the crowd, seeing the waitstaff and performers all mixed together, and assumes many of the unfamiliar faces are other friends and family. He waves at Nick and turns to make his way over to where the other man is standing with his friends, when he’s suddenly got an armful of Louis as he hears the cheerful cry of “Harry! You’re here!” Harry had been unexpectedly called into work for a couple of hours, and had ended up texting Louis that he’d have to meet him at the party. He’d tried to ignore the kick of disappointment he’d felt when he’d only received a thumbs-up emoji back from Louis.

Louis is casually dressed in loose-fitting basketball shorts, a tank top and bare feet. He’s got his snapback on backwards, and his blue eyes are shining in the late afternoon sun. He’s also clearly well on his way to drunk, Harry thinks with amusement. He hasn’t seen a full-on, shit-faced Louis yet, but he has a feeling it’ll be entertaining. And, as the evening progresses, he’s not proved wrong.

Harry is enjoying moving from group to group out on the back deck, chatting and laughing with the different people he’s meeting. The grill is running, there’s a couple of tables set up that are loaded with sides and desserts, and the bar is open. Apparently Simon goes all out for his staff and their friends for this party. The weather is spectacular, with deep blue skies dotted with fluffy clouds, and Harry can’t quite believe the forecast that rain will be heading in late that night. It’s in the low 80s, though Harry knows it’ll cool off by the time the fireworks get going around 9. He almost envies Maxxie, Alice and Laurie, who are working the special whale watch & fireworks cruises that evening, but as a warm body drapes itself over his shoulders, and he feels the press of a damp kiss between his shoulder blades, he corrects himself. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

He feels a shiver run down his spine as Louis whispers into his ear, “Where ya been, Styles?”

“Just here, Louis.” He tilts his beer back to drain the last few drops from the bottle, and catches Louis staring at him, eyes on his throat as he swallows. He smirks, and says, “How about you, Tomlinson?”

Suddenly, Harry hears from someone standing next to him, “Well, hello, Louis. Who’s your...friend?”

Harry glances over as Louis peels himself off of Harry. The man standing there is undeniably attractive. He’s tall, with a lean but muscular frame, deep brown eyes and gleaming skin the color of mahogany, and his hair is intricately braided.

Louis smiles cheerfully and pulls the man into a quick, hug, complete with slap on the back. “Charlie! When did you get into town?”

The man smiles back, his eyes lighting up. “Just last night, babe. Couldn't miss Simon’s do, right?” He turns to Harry, offering his hand. “Hey, man, I’m Charlie. Louis and I are old friends, go way back. How ya doing?” Harry grasps his hand, enjoying the firm handshake, and smiles back.

“Hey, I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.”

“So,” Charlie says, taking a sip of his drink, “How do you and our lovely Lou-bird know each other?” He has a speculative look on his face that has Louis rolling his eyes.

“Jesus, Charlie, you and your gossip. You’re worse than my nana and her fucking book club. Harry’s a friend. He’s new...to town.” He doesn’t look at Harry, deliberately, it feels, as he says this, and Harry reminds himself that this is what he signed up for. A friends with benefits arrangement. That's all.

Charlie raises one eyebrow and turns to Harry. “Oh really? Well, welcome to P-town. Where are you from?”

The conversation continues and after the initial sting of Louis’ seeming brush-off fades, Harry finds himself enjoying it immensely. Charlie is funny and down to earth, and, Harry has to admit, wildly attractive as well. He doesn’t realize that Louis has wandered away, until he turns to say something to him several minutes later, and finds him gone. He glances around the back deck, but doesn’t see Louis in the crowd.

“I think he went inside,” Charlie says. “You were looking for Louis, right?”

“Oh, um.” says Harry, not sure about how much Louis is okay with him telling about their connection. “Yeah, I was just wondering. You know.” He shrugs in what he hopes is a casual manner, and the conversation continues.

As the evening progresses, Harry can’t ignore the slight sinking sensation in his gut. He hasn’t seen Louis to actually talk to him in a couple of hours, and every time he catches a glimpse of him, he can’t quite catch his eye. The noise level is getting higher and higher around him though, and from the way Harry can hear Louis slurring his words, he assumes that the other man is well on his way to intoxicated. He can’t help but acknowledge a small thread of irritation at this. He’d been hoping for a, well, happy ending to the evening, but that clearly isn’t going to happen now.

At one point, he’s standing and talking to Nick when he glances over and sees Louis, perched on the railing of the deck, and feels a moment of concern, hoping Louis doesn’t pitch over backwards into the bay. Louis is staring at him, and doesn’t return Harry’s smile. In fact, he looks almost angry, and then deliberately turns to the man standing next to him, and offers a flirtatious grin that has Harry frowning.

“Uh oh,” he hears Nick say next to him, and turns in confusion.

“What’s uh oh?”

“Oh,” Nick smiles secretively into his beer, “Looks like someone’s a little jealous.”

Harry stares at him. “What do you mean?” He says finally, wondering what Nick had picked up on in his face.

“Just,” Nick grins, “Louis doesn’t look pleased that we’re talking is all, and as much as I love the guy, he can be a bit of a prick when he’s jealous.”

Harry sighs, “I think you’ve got it wrong, Nick, he’s not jealous. Though I might be,” he mutters darkly, glancing over again, where Louis’s laughter is ringing out over the crowd and he’s laying a hand on the other man’s arm to balance himself as he smiles up into his face.

Nick looks over too and snickers, “Oh, that’s just Greg, you have nothing to worry about there, Harry. I know for a fact Louis has never been interested in him, poor darling, no matter how hard he tries. Louis’ just flirting a bit to make you mad.”

Harry says again, “I really think you’ve got it wrong. We’re just friends, and he’s made it very clear that that’s all he wants this summer.”

Nick shrugs in a “suit yourself” kind of way and then casually drapes an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Well, then he should have no problem with this, should he?”

And in the background, Harry hears Louis call out loudly, “Someone, for the love of all that’s holy, bring me another shot!” and he sighs. This isn’t going to end well, is it?

“It’s starting!” He hears someone yell just as the first rounds of the fireworks light up the sky.

Harry takes advantage of the way the party stills as everyone moves towards the railing to watch the display, and sidles up to Louis. He goes to wrap an arm around his waist, but stills in confusion when Louis jumps and moves away from him.

“Louis?” He asks quietly, “What’s wrong?”

Louis rolls his eyes at him, and then says, “Nothing's wrong Harry.” Harry can hear the lie, and the alcohol, in his voice.

Hurt, he says, “Louis. You’ve been avoiding me all afternoon and evening. I thought we were going to hang out together today. I was hoping…” He lets the sentence trail off. Louis knows what he was hoping for, of course he does.

“Well,” Louis says cooly, and Harry has never heard that tone directed at him before, “Guess you hoped wrong. No worries though, I’m sure there’s lots of other folks here that’d be happy to help you out, Harry.”

Harry jolts back, in spite of himself. “What? What the hell does that mean?” His voice has gotten louder, and he knows they’re starting to attract attention. “Louis, what are you talking about?”

“Just,” Louis gestures expansively and Harry realizes that he is absolutely shitfaced. He glances around, and catches Liam watching them, and gives him a slightly panicked look. Liam nods, disentangles himself from Zayn as he whispers something to the other man, and starts making his way through the crowd to them.

Louis is continuing, and all of a sudden, Harry doesn’t want to be there, doesn’t want to hear whatever is going to come out of Louis' mouth, because he has a feeling it’s going to royally piss him off. “You can do whatever you want, Harry. You’re a free agent, you know.”

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t want to do anything with anyone else, Louis.” He lays a hand on Louis arm, but Louis shakes it off impatiently.

“S’not what it looked like to me. You and Charlie looked like you were having a fine time. And then Nick hanging all over you. Didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

Liam finally approaches, takes a look at the two of them, and then sighs. “Louis, were you drinking tequila?” He turns to Harry. “It always makes him...cranky.”

Louis shrugs, grumpy and unrepentant, and Harry is annoyed. “You’re being unreasonable, Louis. All I was doing was taking to them.”

Lous makes a face at Harry’s tone and replies in kind, “You can do whatever you want, Harry.”

“You know what?” Frustrated, Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck this. You’re drunk, Louis, I don’t know what the hell you think was happening here tonight, but I guarantee, you’re wrong.” He turns to Liam, “I’m gonna go. Can you and Zayn make sure he gets home okay?”

Liam just nods, and Harry turns to leave, the sound of fireworks echoing in the night sky overhead.

**July 5th**

Harry yawns, stretches and steps into the shower. It’s quiet in the house, for once, he thinks. He’s got the place to himself -- Maxxie and Alice left this morning, having gone over to Boston for a few days, and the others are at work. He’d ended up spending the night at home after the...was it a fight? After his argument with Louis, even though for the life of him, he still can’t figure out what they were arguing _about._ Other than because Louis was drunk. He’d slept in, and woken to the predicted pouring rain. Since he doesn’t have anywhere to be, he decides to take a long shower, and then plans to spend the day reading and listening to the rain on the roof. Maybe play some guitar. He’s still feeling a bit irritated about the whole situation yesterday. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and he can’t understand these mixed messages from Louis. It isn’t fair for Louis to keep insisting that they are “just friends’ and that Harry is a “free agent” who can “do what he wants” (Harry can hear the sarcastic scare quotes in his own mind), and then for him to get angry when Harry talks to another guy.

He finishes rinsing his hair, and then grabs his shower gel, frowning when he sees that it’s almost empty. Time to order more. He scrubs down, taking his time, and after his shower, dries his hair a bit and slathers his favorite lotion on. Time for part two of his plan, the part that involves lounging around in his bed, possibly feeling sorry for himself, and clearly he needs tea. He throws on some thin cotton sleep pants, and as he heads down to the kitchen, he hears a knock at the door.

When he opens it, instead of the UPS guy he expects to see, he finds Louis, soaking wet and looking sad, and somehow...diminished. Harry stares at him. After the way they’d parted, he figured they’d take a few days and cool off. He’s surprised, to say the least. And still a little pissed.

“Louis? What...what are you doing here?”

Louis just stands there, not meeting Harry’s eyes, the rain dripping down his face. Harry grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the hallway, forgetting for a moment that he’s still mad. “Louis, what is it?”

Louis takes a deep breath. “I just. I came over to say I’m sorry, Harry. I had no right to say those things to you yesterday. I really don’t know what happened, but I know I have no right to act that way. I just.” He shakes his head, running his fingers through his wet hair, “I guess I just overreacted.”

Harry ignores yet again that sinking in his belly and pauses. He knows it’s cost Louis something to admit that he was wrong, and even though he wants to ask him straight-out _why,_ he ignores that impulse, not sure he wants to hear the answer. After a moment, he just shakes his head and says, “Apology accepted. How are you feeling, anyway? You were pretty fucked up last night.”

Louis shrugs listlessly. “Okay, I guess. Liam and Zayn took me home, and I...err,” he flushes, “It was a shitstorm but they made me drink a lot of water and gave me ibuprofen, so I’m not too bad off today.”

Harry nods. “Do you want some tea? I was just about to make some and go back to bed.”

Louis stares at him and Harry can see in his eyes the moment his half-dressed state registers with the other man. Louis swallows. “Tea? Sure. Um, that sounds good.”

Louis follows Harry into the kitchen, looking around curiously, and Harry realizes that Louis has never been in his house before, and how is that possible? He files that away under “things to think about later” and says, “What’s your pleasure?”

Louis starts and Harry snickers. “Tea, Louis. What do you want for tea?”

Louis looks over their oddly robust tea collection and finally selects a vanilla bourbon flavor that Harry is particularly fond of as well, and the next few minutes are spent in preparing their drinks.

“C’mon,” Harry says, oddly nervous, “Why don’t you come upstairs.”

As they head up, Louis says, “It’s awfully quiet here. I guess I always pictured things being a bit more..chaotic, what with you living with Niall and Perrie and all.”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, it usually is. Everyone’s out though. Maxxie and Alice went to see the techstyle thing at the MFA, and everyone else is on duty. I’ve got the place to myself for once.”

Louis takes a deep breath and suddenly it hits Harry, the implications of being alone in the house, here in his home, together. He takes a deep breath as they reach the 3rd floor landing, and opens the door. “Welcome to my humble abode, Louis.”

They enter the room, and Harry tries to see it through Louis' eyes. Worn floorboards, low windows and a skylight streaked with rain. The big bed with his cheerful quilt, his guitar in the corner, books stacked on the nightstand. Photos on the wall, and a couple of his favorite motivational posters. Harry’s only got the light on the nightstand on, so the room is dimly lit in the grey of the rainy morning. It’s relatively neat but clearly lived in. Louis smiles and Harry’s shoulders ease.

“I love it, Harry, it’s so, so you.” Louis breathes as he looks around. Harry sees the way his gaze is drawn to the bed, and then he looks at Harry, and oh. _Oh_. Harry quickly moves the books from his nightstand to the floor and sets his tea down, and Louis follows suit. He plops down on the side of the bed, and pats the spot next to him. Harry sits down and bites his lip.

“Do we...should we talk more about yesterday, Louis?”

Louis sighs. “If you need to? I don’t know. I mean, I know you’re not wanting a relationship and that’s fine, Harry. I just, it was hard to see you flirting with someone right in front of me.”

Harry frowns, a bit stung. “I wasn’t flirting, Louis, I was being friendly. You’re the one who keeps telling me I need to go meet more gay men.”

“Well, maybe you’ve met enough of them.” Louis mutters stubbornly.

Harry snorts. “It’s just, you don’t get to have it both ways, Louis.” He surprises himself, saying it out loud. But it’s true.

Louis drops his eyes. “I know, Harry. I’m just, I’m really enjoying what we have going on, okay? I don’t want to lose...it. I guess I had a bit too much to drink and I got jealous.” His gaze stays fixed on his knees. “Can you forgive me? It won’t happen again.”

Harry finally nods, “Yeah, okay, it’s okay, Louis.” He doesn’t quite know what to say, Louis’ apology seems sincere and Harry’s always hated being at odds with a friend. And, there’s something to be said for being alone in his room with an attractive guy, a guy that Harry is allowed to look at, to touch, to feel against him. Louis’ not even touching him, and Harry can feel himself starting to to harden in his soft cotton pants.

Louis finally looks at him earnestly, “Are we okay?”

“Yeah.”

There’s another long moment of silence between them, and then Harry takes a deep breath, and turning to face Louis, carefully reaches out, cupping his face and drag his thumb down Louis’ cheek and across his lips, which part under its path. Their eyes catch and hold, the moment fraught between them and then Harry leans in and presses a gentle kiss first to Louis’ lips. This feels different, is the thing. This tenderness and quiet between them is new, with soft kisses and gentle sighs as they kiss, still sitting there on the side of the bed, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof.

Louis moves, making his way down the side of Harry’s neck, kissing softly, and Harry shudders at the feel of Louis' hot mouth, at the way the cool air feels on the wet trail Louis is leaving as he mouths his way down Harry’s neck to the place where it joins his shoulder.

Louis takes a deep breath and says only, _“Harry,”_ his tone almost pleading, although Harry has no idea what he’s pleading for.

“Okay, Louis,” he whispers mindlessly, not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to, but willing to say anything to keep Louis doing that.

Louis pushes Harry gently back onto the pillows, and Harry goes down willingly. Louis pauses over him, and then leans down, and their mouths meet in a kiss so achingly gentle that tears spring to Harry’s eyes. He’s never felt this before, this mix of passion and tenderness that somehow manages to calm him down and soothe him in a way he never knew he needed. Another first Louis has given him, it seems.

Louis begins kissing his way down Harry’s neck to his chest again, running his tongue down the tendons in Harry’s neck as Harry reaches overhead and grabs on to the slats in the bedframe, needing something, anything, to anchor him to the earth. The house is quiet around them, and the sound of the rain on the roof is hypnotizing. Harry feels like they could be the only two people on the face of the earth, the only people in the whole world right now. Under the ministrations of Louis' tongue, he feels so cared for, and so safe.

“Louis,” he whispers, not really sure what he wants to say, but needing to feel Louis' name on his lips. “Louis, please.”

Louis moves further down and his tongue swirls around one nipple while his hand skates up Harry’s side and he’s rolling the other one in between his thumb and forefinger, just the way he knows makes Harry fall apart.

“You taste like chocolate,” Louis whispers as he continues to work his way down Harry’s body, to where his cock is straining at the thin fabric of the cotton pants he’s wearing, already damp at the tip. Harry has a feeling this may all go rather quickly. “Why do you taste like chocolate?”

“It’s uh….” he tries to form a coherent thought. “I got some products from this lady...online. It’s...oh my god, _Louis_ ,” his back arches as Louis eases his pants down and tosses them to the side, and then fastens that wicked, brilliant mouth to his inner thigh, “ _Fuck_ , I, um. It’s chocolate cookies and cream.” He gasps a ragged inhale. “Fuck, Louis, _please_.”

Louis smooths a hand down his thigh and then rests it on his hip. There’s a pause, as if he’s considering his next move, and then his words send approximately all the blood in Harry’s body rushing to his cock, as he says quietly, “Do you want to turn over, Harry?”

Harry freezes, his biceps bulging as he grasps the bedframe, trying not to come on the spot. “What. What do you mean?”

“Well,” Louis says thoughtfully, licking a stripe from Harry’s perineum, up his balls to the tip of his leaking cock, “I want to taste you. See if you taste like chocolate...everywhere.”

Oh god. Harry’s heard of this, of course, but he never thought. “Are you sure, Louis? I mean. Do you want to?”

Louis' voice is low and dark as he answers, “Oh, I want to, Harry. Only if you’re comfortable, but yeah. I want to.”

Harry lets go of the bed frame and flushing, turns over. Louis grabs a pillow and urges Harry to lift his hips, sliding it under him, and then slips down onto the bed, hovering over Harry’s body. Harry buries his glowing cheeks into his arms, and takes a deep breath.

“Hey,” Louis says, “We don’t have to, Harry, if you don’t want to.”

For a moment, Harry simultaneously loves and hates him. Loves Louis for always, _always_ letting him be the one to choose, letting him be in control, and hates him for forcing Harry to admit the things he’s desperate to try, all the things he’s longing to do with Louis.

“Please, Louis,” he whispers, “I want you to. I’m sure.”

So Louis begins.

He starts by kissing the center of Harry’s back, working his way down Harry’s spine until he reaches the curve of his ass. Harry feels Louis lower himself down so that he’s leaning on his elbows, and then Louis grabs the flesh of Harry’s buttocks and begins squeezing and and pulling him apart and Harry is shocked to hear a long, low moan come from deep inside of him.

“Oh god,” Louis murmurs, “Yes, _Harry_. Let me hear you.”

Harry moans again, “More, Louis. Jesus, more.”

Louis presses kisses into the cleft at the top of his cheeks, and then spreads them wide, and then, there is a moment, just a moment, where all Harry can feel is Louis’ hot breath ghosting over the most sensitive, secret, part of his body and he thinks, _holy fuck we are doing this. We are really doing this_. And then the moment is over because Louis’ mouth is on him. It’s on him and it’s hot and wet and Louis’ hands are gripping him so hard Harry’s muscles ache from it, but his mouth. Oh Christ, his _mouth_. Louis begins licking and sucking his way into Harry’s body, and Harry has no choice but to surrender fully to the sensation.

Harry has no idea how much time has passed, but he’s been reduced to an incoherent mess as Louis thrusts his tongue over and over again into his quivering hole. Harry’s not sure he’s ever been harder, and he hears himself begging in mindless abandon, “Fuck, _fuck_ , Louis, please, _please_.” He has no idea what he’s begging for, just knows that this is the most amazing sensation he’s ever felt, and the most intimate act he’s ever participated in. He can feel that heat gathering low in his gut as Louis works him over, the sounds he’s making are obscene, his face buried in Harry’s ass like he’s a dying man and this is his last meal. And then, Louis manages to sneak one finger in next to his tongue, brushing up against something inside of him that he thinks must be his prostate, if his forays into porn have taught him anything, and his vision whites out and then Harry is shouting and it’s over.

Harry hears himself give an actual scream, muscle locked as his back arches and he comes, striping the sheets with his release. When he settles back to himself, it’s just in time to see Louis out of the corner of his eye, bracing himself over Harry’s body with one arm, the other hand flying over his cock until he gives a deep, low grunt as he comes all over Harry’s lower back and ass and then collapses onto Harry’s back, resting his head between Harry’s shoulder blades.

“Cookies,” he whispers, pressing a kiss into Harry’s overheated skin, “You taste like chocolate chip cookies.”

Harry collapses face down, gasping and trying to get his heart rate under control, loving the feeling of Louis pressed against him all the way down his body, listening to Louis’s gasping breaths in his ear. After a long moment, he wriggles around and turns over, wrapping his arms around Louis who curls into his side, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder and pressing another soft kiss into the warm skin he finds there. He’s never felt so connected to another person, has never known that sex could be like this, powerful and overwhelming and soft and yielding all at the same time, and as he lies in his warm bed, listening to the rain as he holds Louis close to his heart, he closes his eyes against the sure knowledge that he may never be ready to let Louis go, and that he may have no choice whatsoever in the matter.

**July 8th**

Friday rolls around and finds Harry exhausted. He’s been fighting a bit of a cold and not sleeping well, and it was a long day at work. He’d had to deal with a few different obnoxious folks on the whale watches, and Ben had let him know that the following week, he was going to be on office duty all week, as they had another grant they were working on, “And you did so well on the last one, Harry,” he had said, much to Harry’s chagrin. Apparently the deadline isn’t so urgent on this one, but it is a major source of funding, and Harry is already anxious about screwing it up. He also hasn’t heard from Louis in a couple of days, which is not usual, and he’s feeling a bit vulnerable after their time together on Tuesday.

He hits the supermarket before heading home, and has an Uber drop him off. He hauls his groceries into the kitchen, and finds Niall sitting at the table, drinking tea and reading. The late afternoon sun is streaming in through the kitchen windows, and someone that’s not Harry has clearly cleaned in here, which makes him happy. He smiles at Niall and begins unloading the groceries, setting out the ingredients for the chicken soup he’s planning to make for himself.

“Hey Nialler, what’s going on?”

Niall closes his book and says, “Not much. You? Big plans for a Friday night?”

Harry smiles, “Not really. Gonna make soup, maybe biscuits too. I’m going to try and have an early night.”

Niall looks surprised. “Oh? I thought you’d be going to Simon’s.”

Shrugging, Harry says, “Um, not tonight.”

Niall’s brow furrows in concern. “You and Louis okay?”

Harry stares at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Niall mirrors the same expression back to him. “Harry, you’ve never not gone to see Louis on a Friday night since you landed here in P-town. I thought you guys made up after the thing at the 4th?”

“Niall, we’re not, like, together. You know that, right? This is just a friends with benefits thing. Like you suggested.”

Niall sits back, crossing his arms. “You sure about that, brother?”

Harry shakes his head, remembering when Louis made sure to be clear about their status before the events of Tuesday morning. “Yeah,” he says, and even he can hear the resignation in his voice, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure about that. I mean, we have a great time, and he’s an amazing friend, but...that’s all it is.”

Niall sighs. “Harry. I know I’m the one who suggested it, but from the outside, it really looks like more than that. I mean, you guys text all the time, you hang out all the time, you bang _all the time_.”

Harry flushes, remembering the Unfortunate Incident when he and Louis hadn’t heard Niall returning home on Tuesday. “We’re not actually banging, Niall,” he says, ignoring the fact that he’s pretty sure there’s no difference between having someone’s tongue in your ass versus their dick, in terms of levels of intimacy, or whatever you want to call it. Niall’s scoff seems to indicate he thinks the same way. “We’re not,” Harry insists. “C’mon Niall, we’re just friends.” He pleads wordlessly with Niall to accept this fiction. “You’re not supposed to develop feelings for your friends-with-benefits, right? So, it can’t be more.”

Niall looks skeptical. “Harry, that’s not...how feelings actually work, man, you know that, right? It’s not like you can just control them like that. You feel what you feel.”

Harry turns resolutely away and begins arranging his soup ingredients. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Niall.”

“And besides, I bet there’s lots of relationships that come from an FWB thing. I mean, you gotta wonder why you wanted the benefits in the first place.”

Harry sighs, “I think that only happens when both people feel the same way. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.”

Niall quirks an eyebrow at Harry’s turned back, and says again, quietly this time, “You sure about that, brother?”

**July 9th**

Harry finally gets a text from Louis in the afternoon as he’s getting off the boat. It was a spectacular day out on the water, warm but not too hot, no wind and most excitingly, Harry had finally gotten to see Salt and her baby, and he is flying. His phone chimes as he’s walking home, and he pulls it out, his heart rate picking up when he sees who it’s from.

LalaLou:     Hey

Harribo:     Hey

LalaLou:     Sorry I’ve been MIA. Been working on some new stuff! You coming tonight? I’m on solo, first slot. Thought maybe we could hang out after.

Harry sighs, feeling a stab of irritation at himself for, well, how easy he is for Louis. He can’t stop thinking about Tuesday, and all the other days, all the things they’ve done. He’s finally admitting to himself that his crush from the beginning hasn’t ever really gone away. That’s all it is, he assures himself, just a crush, but he’s never really had one like this before, and there’s no way he’s going to say no to Louis. He just needs to keep it contained. Louis' treating him like a friend, that’s all, and beyond anything else, they are friends.

Harribo:     Sounds good! Can’t wait to hear it!

He talks the others into going with him and they head over, getting to the club just before the lights go down and Louis takes the stage. He is, always, on fire when he’s on stage. Harry can’t take his eyes off of him. Tonight he’s wearing a classic tuxedo, his hair is styled into a gorgeous quiff, and his makeup is subtle, but there. This is a new program, with songs Harry hasn’t heard him perform before, including several show tunes and some classic pop from the 80s. As the hour draws to a close, Louis takes a deep breath, and says, “I’ve got a new one for you, my lovelies, I’ve been working hard on it all week. For the first time, here’s “Far away Cookies.’”

The piano begins, a gentle, lilting melody and Harry stares, wondering what kind of song this is. He’s never heard of it, and it’s an odd title, to be sure. But then, Louis begins to sing.

 _When the sunlight has gone and the green hills turn gray._  
_And the day turns to evening somehow,_  
_Then I’m thinking of you, though you’re so far away,_  
_and I’m wanting you close to me now._

 _Oh_ , Harry thinks, _Another love song_.

 _Oh chocolate chip cookies so high on the shelf, hiding inside of the jar._  
_I’m not tall enough, to reach you myself. So near, and yet, so very far._

At this chorus, Harry sits up, feeling perplexed. What is this? A song about...chocolate chip cookies? A _love song_ about cookies? He can see slightly baffled smiles on the faces around him as Louis continues. And the laughter at Louis' rueful face around the height jokes.

 _I can never forget you. You’re all I adore._  
_Through many long moments I’ve tried._  
_I call out your name, but I’ll have to do more,_  
_to bring you back here to my side._

What the hell is this? As always, Louis is good at working the room, making every single person feel like he’s singing just to them, but Harry get’s the sense that Louis is resolutely not looking over at their crowd at their usual table. He can feel Perrie and Niall watching him, but cannot look away from Louis.

 _Oh chocolate chip cookies so high on the shelf, hiding inside of the jar._  
_I’m not tall enough, to reach you myself. So near, and yet, so very far._

The words are silly, to be sure, but Harry can’t help wondering if there’s some deeper meaning to the song, and then the melody shifts again into the bridge, and suddenly Louis is right in front of Harry, looking down at him.

 _If I had three wishes, they’d all be for you._  
_If I had my way, you’d be mine._  
_Oh, the reach wouldn’t matter, if I had a ladder._  
_If I weren’t so short, we’d be fine!_

Harry’s mouth opens and there is a long moment where Louis holds his gaze, nods, and then moves to the the side of the stage, leaving Harry’s heart pounding and mind spinning.

 _I believe we will be back together someday._  
_I cannot be happy till then._  
_I have loved you before, I could love you some more,_  
_and I long to be with you again._

As the song winds down with a reprise of the first verse, Harry tries to make sense of the song he’s just heard. He knows how carefully Louis chooses his songs, how important lyrics are to him, because they’ve talked about it, Louis gesturing passionately as he explained, “Sure I’ve had to sing stuff that didn’t really click for me, but here, where I have a say, I really need to feel that the songs speak to me, Harry, you know?” Harry had teased him about being a Grand Artiste, which had resulted in Louis telling him to shut up and kissing him into submission, which really wasn’t difficult, but Harry remembers the conversation well. And this is a new song, so Louis has clearly deliberately chosen it, and it “speaks” to him. But why?

Harry can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, what it means is that Louis wants more than just this friends with benefits setup that they’ve created. He knows Louis has been adamant about them being just friends, though there’s no _just_ about their friendship, but who else could he be singing a love song to? Harry leans back in his chair and lets himself hope.

**July 11th**

The following Monday afternoon finds Harry lounging on Louis’ deck as usual. They’ve had a lovely late lunch, swapped enthusiastic blow jobs, and are now drinking beers on the double lounger, while they watch the action out on the harbor. Harry is sitting up, with Louis tucked in in front of him, and he has his arms wrapped around Louis’ body. They’re both shirtless, having pulled on their loose, athletic shorts to preserve their modesty, and Harry is running his hands over Louis’ pecs and down his stomach.

Louis squirms, laughing. “Knock it off, asshole, that tickles.”

Harry does it again just because he can, and then, hooking his chin over Louis’ shoulder so he can look down, he begins tracing the letters inked onto Louis’ collarbone and Louis shivers a bit under his touch.

“That’s really gorgeous,” Harry murmurs and presses a kiss into Louis’ shoulder. He’s gotten accustomed to Louis’ tattoos, has laid his mouth onto each and every single one of them, has heard the stories of the meanings behind them all, and his familiarity hasn’t diminished his fascination with them in the slightest, and finally, he puts voice to the thought he’s been having for weeks now.

“I want one.”

Louis’ eyes are closed against the glare of the late afternoon sun, and he murmurs sleepily, “Want what, Harry?”

“A tattoo,” Harry says, the sense of rightness and determination growing in him, “I want to get a tattoo.”

“Oh,” Louis opens his eyes and twists around in Harry’s embrace to look at him. “Really? Is that a new thing? What do you want to get?”

“I’ve been thinking for about it for a while, since before I left Minnesota. Luke’s got a couple, and I always thought they were so cool. I wanted one but I didn’t know what I would get. I think because I never really felt like I could be honest about who I was. But now…” His voice drifts off as he looks around him, to the colorful and scantily clad revelers on the beach, the rainbow kite that's soaring over the water, not to mention the outrageously handsome man that he just sucked off in the shower. “Now I’m _out,_ you know? I feel like I’m being who I really am. And I want to mark that in some way. Show to the world that I know who I am, and I’m proud of it, you know? Does that make sense?”

“Totally,” Louis says, “Yeah, it absolutely does. If you’re sure, I’ve got an artist here who’s amazing.” He points at the bird on his forearm. “He did this one, and you know Liam’s rose? He did that one too.”

As Harry thinks about it, he gets more and more excited. “I want to do something with pride, and something with music,” He says. “I mean, music’s such an important part of my life, and when I couldn’t come out, it sustained me and helped me get through.” He laughs a bit at himself. “Sorry, that sounded really melodramatic.”

Louis just shakes his head, and smiles. “It really doesn’t, Harry, c’mon, remember who you’re talking to. If you can’t do melodrama with me, who can you do it with?” He pauses and then says thoughtfully, “Well, Zayn’s always up for it, obviously.”

Harry thinks of the truly epic tantrum he’d witnessed the previous week when Louis had left his coffee cup in the sink for the fourth day running, and snorts in agreement.

“Anyway,” Louis continues, “if you want, I could give Elliott a call and see if he’s got anything tomorrow or Wednesday, you’re off, right? You can tell him what you’re interested in, and he can do some sketches. You certainly don’t have to go to him, but he's really good, and he’ll get it, Harry. He’ll understand why it’s important to you.”

Harry nods, heart pounding in anticipation.

In almost no time, he finds himself talking on Louis’ phone to a soft-spoken man who asks him several questions about what he’s thinking in terms of size and color and placement, and then says cheerfully, “Okay, I’ve got some ideas. I’ll sketch some things up, and when you come in Wednesday afternoon, we’ll see if it’s a good fit.”

Harry thanks him profusely, and after he hangs up the phone, he tosses it to the side and tackles Louis into the cushions, who goes down willingly, laughing as he says, “Well, if I’d known this was how you’d react to the idea of getting a tattoo, I’d have suggested it ages ago.”

His eyes darken as Harry’s hips move against his, almost without his own volition, and he feels Louis is starting to get hard too, and when he leans down to kiss him, Louis yanks him down so they’re pressed together, chest all the way down to their toes, with Louis’s lower body trapped between Harry’s legs. Louis rolls his hips up, drawing a gasp from Harry, and then just grins at him and laughs, saying, “I think we’ve got about a half hour before Zayn gets back from rehearsal, Styles. You think you can get it done?”

Harry kisses him hard, jumps to his feet and yanks Louis to standing up after him. He grabs his hand and tugs him back into the house, saying only, “I can get it done, Tomlinson, just you wait.”

He gets it done, just in time, as they don’t make it past the kitchen and barely have their shorts back up when they hear Zayn opening the door, who takes one look at them standing by the refrigerator and just rolls his eyes at them and mutters, “Looking for a snack, boys?” He reaches past them into the fridge and grabs a beer, opens it, and then offers them a mock salute as he takes a sip. “Nevermind, I’m guessing you just had one.” He indicates Harry’s face and as he backs out of the kitchen and heads down the hall, Harry hears him snicker as he says, “Yeah, you’ve got a little...something on your face there, man. Might want to clean that up before you leave the house.”

**July 13th**

Wednesday afternoon finds Harry almost vibrating out of skin with excitement as he and Louis walk down the street to Elliott’s shop. It’s down past where Harry usually turns off Commercial Street to head down the Pier to work, and he’s less familiar with this end of town. Louis is planning to introduce them, but then he has to head into work for a bit, as Lexie has called out sick and Simon is down a bartender for the afternoon. Simon had promised that Louis would be out by 6:00, and Louis has insisted that he is going to take Harry for dinner afterwards to celebrate his tattoo.

The studio is housed on the first floor of an old Victorian, and is furnished with comfortable, worn couches and dusty, oriental rugs. There’s art everywhere, the walls are covered in drawings, some framed, some not, and Harry is in awe of the color and technique he’s seeing. Then his eye catches one set of drawings and he grins.

Elliott comes out from the work area when he hears the door and gives Louis a hug and then introduces himself to Harry. He’s a good looking guy, Harry notes, short and compact with curly dark hair and warm, friendly eyes.

“Come on back, man, I can show you what I’ve got drawn up for you, and we can make any changes you want.”

Harry says a quick goodbye to Louis, promising to go directly to Simon’s after he’s done, and then Harry follows Elliott back into the work area, and sits down into the chair that he indicates. Elliott grabs a folder from the desk and opens it and Harry’s jaw drops because what Elliott has drawn is beautiful and encapsulates exactly what he wants to say on his skin. He’s drawn a a pride flag, the symbol of their community, wrapped around a treble clef. It's exactly right. It's perfect.

“Oh,” He breathes. “Oh my god, this is beautiful, it’s beyond anything I could have imagined.”

Elliott grins, flushes a bit and runs a hand through his hair. “What do you think about sizing? You’d mentioned you were thinking about right arm?” The drawing is about five inches tall, vibrant and colorful, and Harry wants this, knows this is what he’s been waiting for. They talk about positioning and pricing, and Harry fills out the paperwork. Then he pauses.

“Those drawings on the wall, are those tattoos you do too?”

Elliott nods as he gets the stencil transferred onto Harry’s arm. “Yup, I draw them all myself, they’re all one of a kind. You get one of those, and I take it off the wall. Why, you see something else you liked?”

Harry nods. He wonders what Louis will think, and if it’s mad to get two tattoos in one day, but this whole process seems to be about following what his gut knows to be true, and his gut is telling him, there’s another tattoo he needs to get. He walks over to the drawing and points. “This one,” he says confidently, “I need this one too.”

Elliott doesn’t react to his wording, just pulls the drawing off of the wall, and says, “Not a problem, man. I can cut you a deal on the price since you’re getting both, and since you're Louis’s boyfriend. In any case, this little sweetie won’t take more than ten minutes or so to do. Where do you want it?”

Harry ignores Elliott’s misconception and just lays a hand over his heart and says, “Here. I want it here.”

When Harry exits the studio a couple of hours later, he’s feeling a bit spacey and floaty from the post-tattoo endorphins. He’s got the aftercare instruction sheet folded up in his pocket, the bulk of the bandage peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeve, and another bandage invisible under his shirt, over his heart. He’s not regretting his impulsive decision to add a second tattoo, but he does feel a bit of apprehension at the thought of showing it to Louis, because he thinks, it’s just a bit... _obvious._ Hopefully Louis will take it in a less serious vein than it feels, Harry thinks optimistically as he opens the door to Simon’s, nodding to Marcus as he goes.

Louis is done with work and is sitting at sipping a cocktail as he scrolls through his phone and Harry pauses for a moment to look at him, really look at him. He’s as gorgeous as the day Harry met him, though today he’s rocking skinny jeans and red t-shirt that shows of his collarbones and chest piece, instead of a full face and an evening gown. When he’d realized he’d be going directly to work after leaving Harry at Elliott’s, he’d done a simple eyeliner and slicked on a cherry-flavored lip gloss that Harry is particularly fond of, and Harry feels a jolt when he realizes that this is Louis’s standard bartending face. Harry’s in khaki shorts and a nice, pale pink, polo shirt in anticipation of their dinner out, and Louis had gotten him half-way to hard on the walk into town by telling Harry how pure and innocent he looked, and what, exactly, Louis was planning to do to him after dinner. Harry’s hair flops into his face. It’s gotten longer this summer and he’s been pondering growing it out. Pondering putting on some eyeliner of his own. Pondering a lot of things.

He walks up and drops his hand onto Louis’ shoulder. They’re not keeping their, well, it’s not a relationship is it? Their _whatever they are,_ it’s not a secret from anyone, but they also tend to behave more discreetly in public, and Harry feels another pang at that, wishing he could claim Louis in front of the world the way he wants to. Louis looks up with a smile.

“Hey! You’re done? How’d it go? Are you happy? I can’t wait to see it tomorrow. Ready to go?” He stands, rambling in an excited tone, and Harry grins. Okay, so they’re not in a relationship, but he’s pretty sure Louis is his most favorite person to be with, and that’s got to count for a lot.

They head off to the restaurant Louis has chosen, and Harry teases him as they get seated, for making a reservation. He’s picked a seafood place called The Mews which is nice but not so upscale that they’d be out of place in their casual clothes. Louis picks an appetizer and orders a bottle of wine, and Harry takes a moment to relish feeling so taken care of.

They take a few moments to read the menu and then Louis says, “Harry, I’m dying to know, are you happy with it?”

Startled, Harry peers over the menu at him and smiles. He’s still a bit spacey, but he’s beginning to feel more grounded. “I love it,” he says simply. “Louis, he did such an amazing job, and I love it so much. It’s gorgeous, I can’t wait to show it to you.”

They’re halfway through their salads and the bottle of wine, when Harry suddenly hears a voice saying “Oh. My. _God._ Is that a Louis Tomlinson I see? Darling, how _are_ you?”

And Louis’ face is lighting up as he leaps to his feet and he’s embracing a tall, slender, ethereal man who has long blonde hair that tumbles down his back past his shoulder blades, and eyes the color of the sea after a storm. He’s wearing a long chiffon gown and heels that put him well over six feet tall and Harry hates him on sight. Okay, maybe he doesn’t _hate_ him, he does his best not to hate _anyone,_ and certainly not without ever even having exchanged a word with the man, but still. This guy has his arms wound around Louis and his hands are wandering a bit too enthusiastically over Louis’s rear end for Harry’s liking.

The man pulls back a bit to pinch Louis’ cheeks and coo far too close to his face, “Darling, where _have_ you been this season? I haven’t seen you an _eons!_ I’ve been _dying_ from lack of my Lou-bird!” He purses his lips and gives Louis a smacking kiss and then seems to notice Harry sitting silently at the table.

“Oh,” the man trills in delight, “Louis, my _darling,_ you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend! He must think I’m so rude! Hello, Louis’ boyfriend, I’m Dexter, Dexter Malone,” and he languidly raises one long, slender arm, and Harry rises to his feet reluctantly to shake the offered hand.

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he starts and then catches a glimpse of Louis’ face and Louis looks horrified, like he’s about to throw up and then it hits Harry, what Dexter has said. “Oh,” He says, attempting a casual affability that does not come natural to him, “I’m not Louis’ boyfriend. You know, we’re friends.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Dexter raise one hand to his mouth, which is stretched in a theatrical O of horror, though Harry is beginning to think that perhaps there is not a thing that this Dexter Malone does that is not theatrical. He says “Oh, darling, _so_ sorry, I could have _sworn…”_ His voice trails off.

Harry hasn’t taken his eyes off of Louis and he’s cataloguing the different expressions that are crossing his face. There’s that look of horror and nausea, then as Harry speaks there’s discomfort, and then something that looks almost like...hurt? And then, Louis’ eyes meet his and it’s like his face is wiped clean, and he looks...just like himself, and Harry almost wonders if he’s imagined that parade of emotion across his face. And then Louis speaks.

“Harry, this is Dexter, an old friend and theater buddy from New York. Dexter, this is Harry. We met this summer, he’s an intern with the whale conservation folks on MacMillan Pier.”

“Ooohh,” Dexter’s entire being seem suffused with joy at this news, and Harry reluctantly decides he can’t hate this man after all, not even a little. “Oh, Harry, that’s so wonderful! Do you see the whales _all the time?”_

Harry can’t help laughing, and says “Well, yeah, I go out on whale watches several times a week, so I’ve gotten to see a lot of whales this summer.”

“Well,” Dexter says cheerfully, “That sounds just fabulous, darling. We’ll have to get coffee next week and you can tell me _all_ about it.” He turns back to Louis, “Now, my Lou-bird, I’m off, I’m having dinner with Francisco, you _must_ call me, you haven’t been out in _ages,_ we miss you, darling!” He kisses Louis on each cheek and totters off on his ridiculously high heels, and Louis and Harry sit back down in bemused silence for a moment.

“So,” Louis coughs, “That’s, um, Dexter. He’s really a dear when you get to know him.”

“He seems lovely,” Harry says, startled to find he actually means it.

“Sorry about that, the boyfriend thing,” Louis says diffidently, no longer meeting Harry’s eyes, “He’s a born romantic, wants to see everyone paired off happily, two by two, or three or four or whatever. He just believes in love, is all.”

“Oh,” Harry says quietly, ignoring the pain he feels at being reminded that they are just friends. “Yeah, that’s okay. I know. I mean.” He stops, not at all sure of what he’s trying to say because he can’t say what he really wants to which is, _Would it be so bad if I was your boyfriend? Would that be so wrong? Because I like you so much, Louis, and sometimes I think maybe you like me too._ He settles for, “It’s fine, Louis, I don’t mind,” and Louis just hesitates and nods.

**July 14th**

The next day, Harry has work in the morning and Louis has work in the afternoon, so they don’t end up seeing each other until later in the day. Things had continued to feel a bit awkward over dinner, but then Louis had slid into the booth next to Harry while they were having a last drink and had proceeded to rile him up until Harry had been very close to losing his dignity at the restaurant. Louis had walked him home and kissed him at the door and gone on his way, and Harry had gone to bed, alone and aching, wishing things could be different, trying to be content with how they are.

It’s close to 7:00 by the time he heads over to Simon’s. He’s planning to have an early night. Louis is bartending until closing, and had made Harry promise to come in and get a drink and show him the tattoo. When he heads to the bar, it’s oddly empty for a Thursday night, but then, Harry remembers, there’s some huge party that’s been advertised all week at one of the big dance clubs, and he guesses that a lot of the usual crowd must be over there. About half the tables are full, and there’s a larger group at the end of the bar where Lexie is working, but Louis’s end of the bar is quiet for now, so Harry feels no guilt as he slides onto a stool and rests his chin on his hands as he sets his elbows on the bar. Louis turns around and sees him and smiles what Harry has come to believe is his Harry smile.

“Well, well, well,” Louis says, wiping down the bar in front of Harry, “Look what the cat dragged in.” He tucks his towel into his apron strings and starts mixing a drink that Harry knows, from experience, will be set in front of him with a flourish and  no explanation as to what it might be, and that he’ll be expected to give it a real try, compliment it lavishly, and that he will not be allowed to pay for it. They have a routine.

Suddenly Louis’ eyes light up and he says, “Wait just a goddamn minute,” sets down the tequila and grabs Harry’s arm, yanking it across the bar towards him. Harry’s head jerks as its support is pulled away and his other arm flails out, nearly punching Louis in the face, who gives a squawk of surprise as he startles backwards. It takes them a few moments to sort themselves out, after which Louis is almost dancing with impatience.

“Come on, Harry,” he says loudly, “Let me see it.”

Harry flushes and then pushes up his sleeve, revealing the tattoo. Louis’ fingers tighten on his arm as he stares and then raises shining eyes to Harry. “Oh Harry, it’s gorgeous.” He runs soft fingers over it, causing the hair on Harry’s arm to stand on end as he shivers in response. Louis’ gaze darkens and he runs his tongue over his lips and Harry stares, transfixed.

Any last feelings of weirdness that Harry might still have been harbouring from the day before are burned away under Louis’ hungry regard. They watch each other for two heartbeats, a third, and then, not looking away, Louis calls out to Lexie, “Lexie, the bar’s yours, I’m taking a break.”

Without another word, he leans over and opens the pass-through, and, yanking Harry in behind the bar, he pushes him through the door into the storeroom, where Harry’s never been. Harry doesn’t get a chance to get a good look at his surroundings though, before Louis is shutting the door behind him, locking it quickly, and shoving him up against it as he kisses him, _hard,_ one hand stroking Harry’s new tattoo, the other shoved between them to cup at Harry’s rapidly-hardening dick.

Harry can’t catch his breath, can’t process what exactly is happening here. “Louis, what...hey, what are you doing?” He finally stutters out when Louis stops kissing him, only to fasten that wickedly lovely mouth onto his neck as he unbuttons Harry’s shirt. He feels a jolt straight from where Louis is nipping at him to his dick which is, now, apparently 100% on board with what is happening. “What are you doing?”

Louis lifts his head and breathes, “I really like your tattoo, Harry,” and drops to his knees on the dirty storeroom floor.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, his head thunking back against the door.

“Shh,” Louis says as he expertly unzips Harry’s shorts and yanks them down to his knees, and and then maneuvers Harry’s boxers just enough to free his cock, letting it spring out from the fabric and slap against his groin. “You’re gonna have to be really quiet because Lexie’s just on the other side of that door,” and without further ado, he swallows Harry down to the root.

Harry balls his hands into fists at his side and bites his tongue in an effort to keep from moaning aloud. There’s something about knowing that Lexie is _right there,_ that there are customers _right there,_ and that they're all probably well-aware of what is happening in here _right now,_ as Louis had had the subtlety of a freight train when he’d dragged Harry back here — there’s something about all of it that’s really hot, and Harry is shockingly close to the edge.

The sounds Louis is making are obscene as he sucks and his head bobs rhythmically in front of Harry, who is staring down at him in what he might only describe as shocked awe. Harry prays that the sound system in the bar will cover all these noises as he fights for control but all too quickly, he feels it, he’s going to come, very soon, and it’s going to be a doozy.

“Fuck, Louis,” he hisses, his thighs shaking, “I’m gonna come, oh fuck, you’re making me come,” and it takes every ounce of self-control he possesses not to shout out how good it feels as he comes, long and hard, down Louis’s throat. He’s pretty sure the whole endeavour has taken about 4 minutes, start to finish, and he’d feel a bit embarrassed at his lack of stamina if he hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms of his life.

Harry leans back against the door, shaking, as Louis wipes his mouth, rises to his feet with a look of intense and, honestly, smug satisfaction on his face. Louis carefully tucks him back into his boxers with an affectionate pat to his dick, retrieves his shorts from where they’ve migrated down around his ankles, and buttons and zips him back up, restoring him to decency once more.

Wheezing slightly, Harry waves one hand limply and says, “Do you want me to...I can...I could…”

Louis snickers, and says, “Nah, I have to get back to work. Do I have any come on my face? C’mon, let's get you put back together.”

He moves to button Harry’s shirt, and gives his chest an affectionate kiss. Then he freezes for a moment, and tilts his head up to stare at Harry.

“Harry,” he says slowly, as he takes in the tattoo that is centered over Harry’s heart, “What’s this?”

Harry flushes, trying to find the words to tell Louis without scaring him off. “I, uh. Yeah, I might have gotten a second tattoo yesterday?”

Harry watches Louis lean in to study the design more closely in the dim light of the storeroom. Finally he looks up again, meeting Harry’s eyes, and Harry can’t read his expression at all.

“Harry,” he says slowly, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, “Harry, is this...”

Harry takes a deep breath, refusing to let his gaze drop, and then nods. “It is,” he says softly. “I saw it and I just, I had to have it.” Memories are flooding his mind, Louis on stage singing his fucking heart out, Louis laughing on his back deck as Harry tries to toss grapes into his mouth and fails miserably, Louis’s body pressing Harry firmly into the mattress, that moment in Harry’s room on that beautiful, rainy day when Louis had said “Do you want to turn over?” and the almost unbearable intimacy that had followed.

Louis, at the heart of this summer, and that song.

Harry knows Louis doesn’t want the words, doesn’t want how he feels, but it’s so big and full inside of him, it fills him all the way up until it feels like it’s spilling over, and he’s never had a crush like this before, and that’s all it can be, a crush. Because even though Louis does like him too — Harry knows the affection Louis feels for him is real — it’s not the same, and whatever Louis feels for Harry, it will have to be enough for him. And that’s why, inked into his skin is everything he can’t say, everything he feels that he knows Louis doesn’t want, in the form of a small tattoo of chocolate chip cookies, directly over his heart.

Harry sees Louis take a deep breath, and then he presses a soft kiss to the tattoo and carefully buttons Harry’s shirt over it, hiding it away. “I really like it,” is all he says, in a small, almost unreadable voice, and then he’s ushering Harry to the side so that he can open the door, and lead him back out into the bar to the raucous applause of the patrons there, as Lexie leads the cheers. Louis gives Harry a smile and a chaste kiss on the cheek as he sends him on his way, and Harry walks home in the heat of the evening and hopes that they’re okay.

 

**July 19th**

The day that everything changes starts out as an ordinary day. Months later, Harry would remember how he’d been in a wonderful mood that day, how he’d gotten to spend the night with Louis, rare on a work night for both of them. Louis had been tired, and murmured to him as Harry had been saying goodnight at the club, “Just...come and stay? Please?” How Harry had been helpless to say anything but yes. How he’d left Louis, warm and sleeping the next morning, as he’d had to be at work by 9. Mondays were his shortest day at work, where he only worked two of the Whale Watch cruises, the 9:30 and the 11:30. Normally he went home for a shower and grabbed some things, and then headed to Louis’. As Louis didn’t work at all on Mondays, he tended to sleep in, then would spend the rest of the day taking care of domestic chores, getting clean sheets on the bed, “So we can mess ‘em up, right Harry?” On the day that everything changes, everything happens just as usual. Until Harry gets off the boat.

He’s checking his phone, hoping that there’s a text from Louis, and not looking where he is going, when he hears a familiar voice cutting through the noise of the crowd around him. “Harry.”

He freezes, his head coming up in shock. There. Standing there right in front of him is...

“Hi Harry.” Luke says quietly.

“Luke.” Harry replies dumbly, entirely unprepared for the unexpected appearance of this man, his brother, his best friend for so many years. The boy who’d taught him to ride a bike, throw a football. Put on a condom. And, when their parents had cut Harry out of the family and thrown him out of the only home he’d ever known, he’d stood by, silent, anguish clear on his face, but he’d never said a word. Not one. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, bro.”

Harry feels his first flicker of rage. “Why? What makes you think I have anything to say to you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees heads starting to turn towards them, catching the tone of anger and raised volume, wondering what is going on. He shoves his phone into his shorts pocket and stalked toward Luke. “You have no right, no…” Abruptly he stops, feeling his throat tighten, his jaw working, as he struggles to stay in control.

Luke stays still, his eyes searching Harry’s. He looked different, Harry thinks, older, more careworn. Tired. How could a face change so much, so quickly? Hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes that same dusty grey, same chestnut hair, the same dimple that Harry himself knew was currently missing from his own face. That one came from their grandmother. “I know, Harry. I know I don’t deserve a moment of your time, I _know_. But. I needed to see you. There’s something you need to know.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me that I would possibly want to know.”

“It’s Mom, Har. She’s got cancer.”

For the rest of his life, Harry will mark this moment as the dividing line between Before and After.

“Please, Harry. Can we talk?”

Stunned, trying to make sense of the words he just heard, Harry replies numbly. “Okay. Yeah. We can go get coffee or something.”

He sees something unclench in Luke’s eyes and his shoulders drop as he exhales. “Thank you.”

They walk silently to the coffee and ice cream shop, Harry opting for a decaf mocha while Luke takes his plain and black. They carry the drinks out back to the deck and sit side by side on the steps leading down to the harbor, looking out at the water.

“So,” Luke sighs. “First, I just have to say this. Harry. I am so, so fucking sorry.” His voice breaks, and he takes a deep breath, trying to stay in control. “When Mom and Dad...when all that went down, I _know_. I know I let you down, Harry, and I just. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Harry finally looks over, and meets Luke’s eyes. He thinks of the past two months, all the new experiences he’s had, the loss and heartbreak he’s had to shove away, over and over again, and Louis, always Louis at the heart of it. Louis is brave. Louis would ask the questions that are burning on his tongue.

“Why did you do it? Why didn’t you say anything? Just let them say all that _shit_ to me. Kick me out? How could you? _Why_?” His voice catches and suddenly, tears are running down his face even as he fights for control, completely uncaring that they are in public, that anyone can see. Completely uncaring that _boys don’t cry. At least, not where they can see you._ “You’re my brother, Luke. How could you?”

And then, _oh,_ Luke is crying too, tears running down his face as he reaches for Harry, holding him so tightly, and Harry has missed this, missed his brother, his best friend, so much. “Because I was a fucking coward. I knew, Jesus, Harry, I’ve known you were gay since you were eight years old. And I _didn't care._ But I knew they did. And when they finally confronted you, and you just said, ‘Yeah, it’s true.’ I was so proud of you,” Luke gasps, and Harry can see him reining in his pain, “I was so proud and so scared for you. Harry, you’re my baby brother, and I love you, and I’m so, so sorry. I know I failed you. I’m sorry.”

And then they are hugging, clinging to each other here at the end of the country, so far from home, but somehow, closer than they have ever been. After a moment, they both ease back, smiling tremulously at each other. Then Luke’s face falls.

He takes a deep breath. “About a week after you left, Mama collapsed at church. She was having trouble breathing.” And in that moment, Harry knew. Twenty-five years of chain smoking had caught up to her.

“It’s lung cancer, isn’t it.”

Luke sighs and nods. “Yeah. I mean. It’s not a shock, I guess, except that of course it is.” He gives a half-hearted laugh. “It’s not good, Harry. I guess she’d been feeling stuff for a while, but you know Mom.”

For a moment they are united in perfect harmony, rolling their eyes at the woman who birthed Luke, and did everything but birth Harry, who raised them both to manhood. The same woman who worked the 4-H fair with a broken foot because she didn’t want to bother anyone. Who ran the PTA Winterfest fundraiser with fucking pneumonia because she was in charge and didn’t want to let anyone down. Who took in her teenage sister’s orphaned bastard and never, _ever_ once let anyone call him that to his face. Who never missed a game. She was Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. Because someone had to be. Because that’s what moms do.

Harry feels his heart crack right there. Because, even though she has failed him so profoundly, she is also the only mother he’s ever known. As much as he is so angry with her, so _justifiably_ angry with her, he loves her even more.

“Tell me.”

“It took a few days to figure it out, but then…” Luke shakes his head. “They immediately transferred her to Mayo. They’ve got her on some experimental protocol, and it’s tough, Harry.”

Harry looks away for a moment, and then meets Luke’s eyes. “Does she know you’re here?”

“Who do you think sent me?”

Harry’s eyes fill again. “Oh fuck, really?”

Luke nods, sniffling. “She knows she fucked up, completely. She was kind of out of it when I left, but she just kept saying, ‘Tell him, Luke, make sure he knows. Tell him I love him. Tell him I miss my son.’”

Harry sighs, suddenly exhausted and wrung out. He glances at his phone, and sees 1. That it is an hour past when he usually turns up at Louis', and 2. There are several missed texts from Louis, wondering if he’s coming over as usual. He looks up to glance around the cafe, and feels his stomach drop because Louis is right there, standing in the doorway as if Harry’s thoughts have summoned him. And he’s staring at Harry. _Shit_.

As Louis walks over towards him, his slightly irritated expression turns to concern as he takes in the tear tracks on both men’s face, and his speed increases. “Harry, hey. When I didn’t hear back from you, I got worried. Are you okay?” His hand drops, heavy and reassuring, to Harry’s shoulder. Harry doesn’t miss the way Luke’s eyes flicker from Louis' face to his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and he is pretty sure that Luke is not missing the traces of eyeliner from last night still smudged around Louis' eyes. Harry aches and reminds himself, _Louis wouldn’t be a coward. Louis doesn’t care how people judge him. C’mon Styles. Balls out, be a man._ He takes a deep breath.

“Louis, I’d like you to meet my brother, Luke. Luke, this is my friend, Louis.” Luke immediately rises, and in spite of everything, Harry feels a flicker of amusement, realizing that Luke has, most likely without even thinking about, given Louis girlfriend status. You don’t stand for a buddy, you do for a girlfriend, it’s that simple. Luke holds out his hand, and smiles.

“Louis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Louis looks somewhat suspicious, but shakes Luke’s hand firmly. “It’s...nice to meet you, Luke. Harry didn't mention his brother was coming to town.”

Harry and Luke exchange glances, and Harry feels a sharp pain at the familiar feeling, the way they can just understand each other without words sometimes. Brothers.

“Uh, yeah, Harry didn’t exactly know.” Luke’s voice trails off. “I’m not sure how much he’s, er, mentioned?”

“Enough.” says Louis grimly.

Luke nods. “That’s fair. Well,” he glances at Harry as if to ask, _What can I say?_

Harry simply nods and murmurs, “I’d be telling him anyway, Luke.”

“Our mom sent me to talk to Harry. Because, well,” He pauses, coughs, and continues in a rough voice, “She’s sick. So she wants to see him.”

Suddenly, it is just too much for Harry. Luke and Louis in the same breathing space. Knowing that his _mom_ is sick. Maybe dying. The day he’s already had. He leans back in his chair, exhausted, and lets his eyes close for a moment.

He can feel the weight of Louis' concern as he asks softly, “Harry? Haz? Are you ok?”

Harry mutely shakes his head. He hears Luke say, “Har, I’m staying at an inn downtown. Did you change your number?”

Harry opens his eyes, trying not to let the bitterness seep through. “I had to, remember? They shut off my phone.” He quickly sends his new contact info over to Luke, ignoring Louis' worried gaze, and then says, “I think...I’m gonna go, Luke. I know we need to talk more, and we can. But tomorrow, okay? I’m just. I’m all done.” He stands up, with Luke mirroring the movement.

Luke simply nods. “That’s cool, Harry. I know. I just…” his voice cracks and then he continues, “Thank you, little bro, I love you. You know that, right?” He pulls Harry into a tight embrace, and Harry reflects sadly that this is the very first time Luke has ever said those words to him.

“I love you too, brother.” They hold each other for a moment, trying to convey through touch everything still unsaid, and then Harry pulls away. Not caring what Luke thinks, he moves cautiously to Louis, who immediately grabs him into a tight hug. “Can we go home, Lou?” he mumbles, “I just want to go home.”

“Of course, darling,” Louis whispers, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder and guiding him from the cafe, “Of course we can.”

They walk in silence to Louis', Harry lost in thought, Louis sending some texts. When they reach the apartment, Harry is surprised at the silence. “Where’s Zayn?”

Louis shrugs. “I asked him to head to Liam’s. He sends his love. I just thought...maybe you didn’t need anyone else here?”

Harry turns to him. “I’m so sorry, Lou, I didn’t even text you. Luke just...he just showed up.”

Louis pulls Harry into a tight embrace. “Don’t be ridiculous, Haz. Yeah, I was pissed at first, just didn’t know what was going on, but as soon as I saw you with him, I just...yeah, I knew something was really wrong.”

Harry holds tight to Louis, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. A thought flickers across his consciousness, one word, but he’s too strung out, too shocked to do anything but watch it go by. _Home. Home. Home._

Louis says softly, “What do you need, baby? You hungry? Can I feed you one of my world-famous sandwiches?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I think just...maybe I wanna take a shower, and then a nap? I’m tired, Lou. So tired.”

Louis walks Harry down the hall to his room. He takes Harry’s bag from his shoulder, and gently sets it in the corner. He pushes Harry down to sit on the edge of the bed, and kneels down before him. He carefully removes Harry’s boots and socks, and then pulls him into the bathroom. Setting the shower water to running, he undresses Harry, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder as he pulls Harry’s t-shirt off. When the water is hot, he gives Harry a gentle push and moves to head out of the room.

“Wait...um, could you. Could you, maybe, just stay for a bit?”

Louis pauses and turns back around. “Sure, baby. As long as you need me.”

 _Don’t ever go,_ Harry’s treacherous mind whispers as he moves under the water, _I don’t ever want you to leave me._

He stands still, numbly letting the water flow over him. And then, “Lou?”

“Yeah?”

Harry feels his throat close up as he struggles to push out the words. “She’s. She’s going to die, Lou.” His voice shakes, bewildered. “What...what am I going to do?” And with that, Harry breaks. He slumps against the cool tile of the wall and buries his face in his hands, sobs shaking his body.

He hears a muffled curse and all of sudden there is a warm and naked Louis pulling him into an embrace. He hears a whispered, “Oh, darling, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Haz. I’ve got you.”

Harry leans his face into Louis' shoulder and weeps, his body shuddering with sobs as Louis holds him in the pouring water. He notes with a numb detachment the whispered endearments and the soft kisses Louis presses onto his head and shoulder. “There you go, baby, there you go. Let it out. Just let it out, my darling.”

After what feels like an eternity, Harry’s body stills and his tears slow. Finally, he takes one last, long, shuddering breath, and raises his head. He is sure he looks a right mess, red eyes and snotty nose, but nothing on Louis' face indicates any discomfort with what is happening between them. There is only something pure and true shining in his eyes as he reaches up, smooths one thumb over Harry’s eyebrow and cups his face, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” is all he says.

Harry feels empty and numb, as if he’s possibly wept out parts of his soul, along with every last feeling he’s ever had. He feels Louis' gentle hands washing his entire body, hears him whispering “Rinse now, baby,” as he tenderly scrubs Harry’s hair. He feels oddly pliant as Louis reaches past him to turn off the water, and carefully dries him off before tugging him into the bedroom. The room is filled with the soft light of the late afternoon, this room that has somehow become as familiar to him as his own home. Louis eases Harry into bed, and pulls a sheet up over him.

Harry’s voice cracks as he whispers, “Stay. Please, Lou. Just stay.”

The last thing he hears as he slips into sleep is Louis whispering, as he curls up behind him, wrapping Harry close in his strong arms, “Of course, darling. Of course. As long as you need me.”

The next time Harry opens his eyes, the room is almost completely dark, with just the faintest shimmer of cool light outside. Unsettled, he rolls over to look at the clock, and feels Louis stirring beside him. The glowing numbers let him know it’s late, 1:45 am. Through the sheer curtains at the windows, Harry can see the glow of the full moon, impossibly bright over the ocean, casting a soft light through the room. He rolls onto his back, disoriented at having gone to sleep so early, feeling wide awake.

He feels Louis roll over as well and prop himself up on one arm. “Are you awake? How are you feeling.”

Harry coughs, and grabs a sip of water from the ever-present bottle on the nightstand, feeling the cool liquid soothe the dry burn of his throat, raw from his emotional outburst early. “I’m so sorry, Louis.”

He can feel the weight of Louis' stare in the low light of the room, confusion wafting toward him in the dark. “What the hell are you sorry for, Harry?”

“Just...you know, crying. That whole scene. I don’t...usually do that.”

“Harry.” Louis' voice is low and warm, sending a shiver through Harry’s gut. “Do not ever, _ever_ apologize to me again for being human and expressing that. Do you hear me? I can only imagine what that was like for you, Luke showing up after what happened, and then the news he brought. Of course you cried. You’re a human being, you asshole.”

Harry snorts at that, and all at once, feels a bit more like himself. “Well, ok. But still. I mean, I didn’t even cry when they confronted me about being, you know, gay. I didn’t cry when they told me to get out. I only cried once, that first morning after, in the motel, alone.”

“Well, maybe that’s a problem,” Louis says carefully. “That’s all part of the bullshit you came here to get away from, right?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

There’s a pause and then Louis says, “Is there anything I can do for you? I just, I can see how much you’re hurting…”

Suddenly, Harry knows exactly what he wants, no, what he _needs_ from Louis. He needs something to ground him, bring him back to himself. Something to make him feel whole and alive.

“Yeah, there’s something.” He pauses, unsure how to say what he wants.

“Well?” Louis asks after a moment of silence, and Harry can hear the smile in his voice. “You gonna fill me in on the secret, Styles, or make me guess?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

He hears Louis' sharp intake of breath. “What? Harry…”

“I want it, Louis. I need you. I’ve been wanting it anyway, wanted to talk to you about it, but now. Just. Please, Louis.” Louis is silent, and Harry’s heart sinks. “Is it...do you not want that?”

“Harry. I don’t think there’s anything in the world of human sexuality that one body could do to another that I wouldn’t want to do to you, but...Is this really the right time? Are you sure you don’t want to wait?”

Harry shifts closer in the dark, and reaches up to gently trace the curve of Louis' face. He whispers softly, “I don’t want to wait, Lou,” and carefully, almost timidly, presses his mouth to Louis, wondering if Louis can feel in his kiss that here, at this moment in the dark, all he wants is to be as close as it is possible to be with another person. And not just anyone, only Louis, who makes him feel more alive than anyone else ever has, to remind himself that they are okay, and whole, and _here_ , and no matter what will happen tomorrow, or a month from now, or a year from now, Harry will always, always want his first time to have been with Louis. Always.

Louis is motionless under Harry’s mouth for a moment, and then, sighing, he presses back into the kiss. Harry feels raw as Louis' hand skims over his shoulder around to the back of his head, pressing them closer together. Harry’s mouth opens under Louis' tongue, and he rolls onto his back, pulling Louis with him, closer and closer. Although he’s spent the majority of his free time over the last month kissing Louis, and has grown familiar with the shape and taste of his mouth, this kiss feels different, like they are building something new and fragile between them.

As Louis' strong, slim body presses Harry down into the mattress, Harry can feel the hot, hard length of him, pressed against his own cock, fattening up, skin to skin. The intimacy is both overwhelming and too much, and not enough, nowhere near enough.

“Please,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he is asking for. Since leaving home, for the first time he’s had privacy and internet access, and has learned a fair amount about the mechanics of gay sex, but tonight, finally, he’ll learn how it _feels._ Kissing Louis is one of his most favorite things to do, ever, but now, he wants more.

As if reading his mind, Louis pulls back and sits up. “Let’s do this right,” he murmurs. He stands up and opens the top drawer of the bedside table, pulling out a condom and lube, setting them on the bed next to Harry. Then he opens the next drawer, and sets several votive candles out on the bedside table, clicks the lighter and lights them. The room seems to shimmer in the soft glow of the candles, with the light of the full moon leaking in through the curtains. Sparks of gold reflect in Louis' eyes like stars on an infinite, silent sea. He turns back, and sits down onto the bed next to Harry. “If you’re sure. And are you sure you want me to top? We haven’t really talked about...preferences.”

Harry nods, his eyes never leaving Louis', feeling like he could drown in the depths of the blue gazing steadily back at him, and he knows that for the rest of his life, when he thinks of this moment, he will remember the color of Louis' eyes in the soft, flickering light of the candles and the moon. “Yeah, if that’s. Like if that’s okay with you?”

Louis' small smile widens, and turns positively sultry. “Oh babe. Yeah. That is just fine with me. Have you thought about how you’d like it?”

Harry shrugs a minute shrug, “I just...want you, Louis. I know you’ll take care of me.”

At that, Louis closes his eyes for a moment, as if momentarily overwhelmed, and when he opens them, the affection shining out of them at Harry is clear. He then speaks with complete sincerity. “I’d be honored, darling.” And with that, he leans over, and starts kissing Harry’s collar bones.

He moves, leaving a trail of fire under his lips and fingertips, as he traces slowly over Harry’s tattoos, first the vibrant rainbow on his arm, and then presses an open-mouthed kiss to the sweet chocolate chip cookies. He runs his hands over Harry’s ribs as he kissed down Harry’s body, Harry’s abs contracting under the gentle touch. Without looking up, Louis grabs the lube. Harry hears the snick of the lid opening, and stares as Louis carefully slicks up the fingers of his right hand. As Louis slides his hand down, ghosting first over Harry’s hard cock, then gently cupping his balls and tracing a line down his perineum, Harry shudders. Louis shifts his body, and as he presses one finger to the opening of Harry’s entrance, he leans over and sucks the head of Harry’s cock into his warm, wet mouth.

“Fuck!” Harry squawks in surprise, hips jerking reflexively up, as the tip of Louis' finger slips inside him. “Oh my god.”

Harry tries not to squirm as Louis moves his finger a bit, sucking lightly on his cock as if to distract Harry from the slight burn. “Jesus, you should see yourself, Harry, laid out like this for me,” Louis murmurs, lifting his head for a moment so he can speak. “So fucking beautiful, baby, so beautiful for me.”

Harry _feels_ beautiful with Louis’ words and his eyes burning in the dark, looking up at him like that. He lays back, legs spread, staring up at the ceiling, watching their shadows moving in the flicker of the candlelight, absorbing the sensation as Louis' finger moves deeper within him. He feels his body relax and adjust to the intrusion, trying not to feel embarrassed at the intimate contact. He listens to Louis muttering reassurance and realizes he has nothing to feel embarrassed about. If he can believe what Louis was saying, and he knows that he can, this is as intensely erotic for Louis as it is for him.

Slowly Louis manages to sink his finger in more deeply, and, shifting his angle, begins to crook his finger until, “Jesus Christ!” Colors shoot across Harry’s field of vision as he slams his eyes shut, trying not to thrust hard into Louis' mouth. “Oh god, is that? That’s it?” Harry recognizes the pure jolt of sensation from the last time they were together, when Louis had rimmed him, and it makes him feel like he’s on fire. It’s so good.

Louis strokes across his prostate a few more times, and Harry moans, long and low. “That’s it, darling. Amazing, isn’t it? Oh Harry, you’re incredible.”

Harry loses himself to the searing pleasure that Louis is generating in his body, from his mouth on Harry’s cock to the finger pressed deep within him, that soon becomes two, then three. Somehow Louis seems to sense when Harry is too close to the edge, pulling off or slowing his fingers down, the exquisite ache dulling to something slightly less fraught. Harry has no idea how long it’s been - he was reduced to incoherent moans a while ago, when Louis pauses, and sits up, pressing down on Harry’s hip.

“Harry, I think you’re ready, if you still want to? If you want to come like this too, darling, that's fine. Just tell me what you want.” His voice is hoarse, his tone shaken is if he’s as moved by this as Harry is, as overwhelmed by this journey they’re taking together as Harry is.

“Louis. Lou. I just fucking want you inside me, please. _Please_.”

Louis nods, grabs the condom and quickly rolls it on, hissing as he adds an extra layer of lube. At Harry’s quizzical look, he grimaces and says, “It’s just, seeing you like this, Harry, it’s kind of...incredible, and I’m really fucking turned on. Don’t wanna come too soon.” With that, he arranges Harry’s legs, lines himself up with Harry’s entrance, stares deep into his eyes, and whispers, “Take a deep breath for me, baby, hold it for a sec and then let it out slowly.” Harry inhales on a gasp, pauses, and then, as he begins to exhale slowly, Louis pushes in.

It hurts, it does. But it is, Harry thinks, a good hurt, the best hurt, that hurt of being stretched open to make way for another person. Of course it hurts, how can it not? It hurts to open up and let someone into him, but he wouldn’t change a thing about this moment for anything. After Louis has pushed the head of his cock past that ring of muscle, he stops, bracing himself, arms trembling and rigid with the strain of holding still. “Okay, baby? I know it hurts, just breathe for me for a second, darling.”

Harry stares up at him, and his eyes fill, overwhelmed at the power of the moment. “Louis,” he whispers, wide smile shining through the burn and the tears, “Louis, you’re _inside_ me.”

Louis' face lights up in an answering grin, blue eyes shimmering in the light of the candles. “Oh darling. I am, I’m inside you.”

Harry lets out a small, delighted laugh, and then, “I think you can move some more, if you want to?”

Louis nods, his eyes never leaving Harry’s as he presses slowly forward, deeper into Harry. He sets up a slow, gentle rhythm, rocking into Harry with long, smooth strokes. Harry instinctively starts shifting his own hips up, matching Louis thrust for thrust. He adjusts a bit and all of a sudden, “Oh fuck. Oh Jesus, Louis…”

Louis doesn’t stop moving, just gives a smug grin, “That it then, baby?”

“Oh yeah….” Harry’s cock, which has flagged a bit during the pain of Louis' entry, begins to harden again as Louis strokes against that spot inside of him, again and again. “Oh god, just. Don’t stop, _fuck.”_ Again and again, until Harry cries out, “Oh my god, Louis, _Louis_!” feels his back arching involuntarily, as he arches up against Louis, and comes, cock totally untouched.

He hears Louis groan and mutter something that sounds like “holy fucking shit” and then he’s thrusting down hard, with a loud groan, and Harry feels him start to come, his body going rigid, hips pressed snug against Harry’s body. There is a long moment of silence, punctuated only by their gasping breaths, and then Louis pulls out.

Harry shudders, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Louis, without a word, pads into the bathroom. Harry hears him dispose of the condom, the water runs for a moment, and then he’s back with a damp washcloth, and tenderly cleans Harry off, as well as wiping himself down, as he’s done so many times before, but this time it feels different. After he’d dries them both off, Louis shifts Harry around so they’re both under the sheet and light blanket. “Um, should I blow out the candles?” Harry asks.

Louis shakes his head. “No, leave them for a bit. I want…” He bites his lip and looks self-conscious for a moment, “I want to see you still.” He curls around Harry, pressing a gentle kiss into his shoulder as he snuggles in closer, winding his leg through Harry’s. Something about the feel of his soft cock against Harry’s hip is so achingly intimate and tender that Harry feels his throat catch.

“So….” Louis starts hesitantly, “was that. Was that okay? What you hoped?”

Harry rolls in Louis' embrace so they’re facing each other, and presses his forehead to Louis'. “Louis, there aren’t even any words. That was, it was incredible. I can’t understand what I did to get so lucky as to have all these firsts with you, Lou. It was, it was just beautiful.”

Louis smiles gently, and presses a warm kiss to Harry’s forehead. “I’d just, you know, hate it if you ever regretted anything we did. That was amazing, Harry. I lo—” he stops abruptly as he gazes off into the distance, and a look of something almost like fear crosses his face, and he coughs to cover the awkward pause.

Heart pounding, Harry says, “What?”

Louis shakes himself, and then gives Harry a deliberately friendly smile, and all of a sudden, Harry feels uncomfortable, as if there’s a gulf between them where previously they were as close as two people could be. “Nothing, babe. It was great. C’mon, it’s late, blow out the candles and let’s see if we can get back to sleep.”

Harry doesn’t think he’s imagining the distance he’s hearing in Louis’ voice, and can’t understand where it’s crept in from. Louis tucks his head into the crook of Harry’s neck, and in no time at all, it seems, Harry hears his long, slow even breathing as Louis sleeps.

Harry doesn’t close his eyes again that night.

Finally at about 5:30, he gives up. Easing himself out from under Louis' arm, he heads into the bathroom. Flipping on the light, he takes a long look at himself in the mirror. The evidence of the emotional toll that the previous 24 hours has taken is written on his skin. There are circles under his eyes, his lips are chapped and bitten, and he looks exhausted. He drops his head with a groan, trying to decide to what to do. The door opens, and Louis stumbles in, looking sleep-rumpled and a bit grumpy.

“Can’t sleep, Harry?”

“No.” Harry sighs, and bites his lip. “I just can’t stop thinking, I’ve got so much stuff just running through my head.”

Louis gives him a quick hug, and Harry tells himself that he is imagining the distance he’s feeling between them. How is it possible, when just a few hours ago they’d been as close as two people can be, that now, with Louis standing directly next to him in the tiny bathroom, he’s not sure he’s ever felt further away from him.

**July 20th**

Harry agrees to meet with Luke at one of his favorite cafes. He hopes that talking in public will help him to maintain a grip on his emotions. Between the blow of the news about his mother, and then all that has transpired between Louis and himself, he is feeling a bit on edge.

He sees Luke waiting out in front of the cafe, and hurries forward, hoping that he isn’t walking in such a way as to divulge what had occurred in the early hours of that morning. When he draws close, Luke pulls him into a one-armed hug, complete with the back-slapping that is classic for the midwestern guy. It hits Harry how very much his life has changed since leaving Kerkhoven just 8 weeks ago. He realizes, suddenly, that Luke is here on _his_ territory, and he is not going to hide the truth of who he is, not anymore.

They are seated, and pass through the awkwardness of the first few moments with ordering and getting coffee. After the waitress leaves, there’s a pause and then Luke says, “I was wondering if Louis would be joining us too?”

Wait, what? That is not what Harry had been expecting his brother to say. “Um, no. He had some stuff to do.”

Luke’s voice is gentle, and Harry hears no condemnation in it, only curiosity. “He is your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

“Um,” Harry shifts uncomfortably. “Not...exactly, no. We’re friends. We’ve gotten really close this summer.”

Luke’s eyes narrows. “But you’re sleeping with him.” There isn’t a question in his tone, and then, “He’s gorgeous, Harry, really.”

Harry flushes and groans. “Yeah, okay, we’ve got a friends with benefits thing going, but that’s it. And, Jesus, Luke, I’m not talking about boys with you!”

Harry swears he sees a flash of hurt in Luke’s eyes. “Why not? Is it because you’re gay? Because, Harry, I don’t care about that.” He pauses. “No, that’s not right. I do care, because I care about _you,_ and who you are. I told you yesterday, I’ve known, maybe always, but you never seemed to want to talk about it, and I just. I didn't know how to ask. And then when Mom and Dad confronted you, and Jesus, Harry, you were so fucking brave, you could have lied, could have denied it, but you didn’t. I’ll never forgive myself for not speaking up, Harry. I just panicked, I didn’t know what to do.”

Harry sits frozen, silent, not knowing what to say, but Luke isn’t done.

“So, yeah, I want to talk about boys with you, because I want to talk about you, and your life.” He sits back, and Harry stares at him, stunned to hear such emotional coherence come out of the mouth of his brother.

“And,” Luke adds, “I don’t buy that it’s just an friends with benefits thing.”

Harry frowns, “What? No, that’s all it is. He doesn’t...he doesn’t feel like that about me.”

Luke raises one eyebrow and Christ, how had Harry forgotten just how fucking perceptive he is, behind that stoic, Midwestern farmer facade. “But you have feelings for him. I saw the look on your face when he walked over, little bro.”

“No.” Harry starts, “No, he’s a really great friend, he’s been really good to me. I mean, yeah, I had kind of a crush on him when I met him at the club, but, I can’t have feelings for him, Luke, he doesn’t want that.”

“That’s...not really how feelings work, Har.”

Harry frowns, remember Niall telling him the same thing. “Well, it’s gonna have to work that way.”

“Besides, are you sure he doesn’t feel that way about you? I mean, the way he was with you yesterday, that didn’t look like just a friend.”

“Yeah.” Harry says sadly, “I think so.”

And then, softly, Luke asks, “Does he know that you’re in love with him?”

Harry freezes, and stares at him. “What?”

“I said,” Luke says clearly, “Does he know? That you’re in love with him?”

As Harry continues to stare at Luke, the truth of the words crash over him, and he closes his eyes, groaning at how blind, how stupidly fucking _blind_ he’s been. Of course. _Of course_ he’s in love with Louis. What else could this feeling be, but love? Head over heels, all the way down love.

“Jesus, Harry,” he hears Luke mutter, “Are you actually telling me that _you_ didn’t know?”

Harry opens his eyes and stares frantically at his brother. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh no,” he groans, dropping his head into his hands. As the waitress sets down their food, he hears her ask Luke, “Um, is he okay?”

“Yeah, he just realized that he has the emotional literacy,” and here Luke kicks Harry under the table, “of a _bat,_ and he just needs a minute. And probably some more coffee.”

Without raising his head, Harry sighs in agreement. “Yeah, definitely more coffee.”

The conversation doesn’t really improve much from there. Luke fills Harry in on their mom’s treatment, the status, and the prognosis. “It just really all depends on this experimental chemo. It’s fucking brutal, but you know mom, she just doesn’t let it get her down.”

“What happens if it works?”

“If it works, it buys her some time. Not a lot, but a few months, probably. It’s been really successful so far in the testing, they said, way better than they thought. It’ll make her feel...not great, but better, so she’ll also have a better quality of life in those months.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then she’ll die. Soon.” Luke’s devastated expression meets Harry’s own.

“When will we know?”

“Next week. She’s got all the follow up testing for the first month. If it’s not working now, it’s not going to. She didn’t look great at the two week mark, but they said there’s been a small, but what do you call it, important?”

“Significant.”

“Yeah, a small group of what they’re calling late responders. So either it goes gangbusters from the start, or you’re a late bloomer, but if you don’t bloom by the end of the first month, you’re not gonna.”

Luke rummages around in his bag, and pulls out an envelope. “She wrote you a letter, Harry. She knows she fucked up, _bad,_ and honestly, I don’t think she expects you to forgive her. But...would you read it?”

Harry tucks the letter into his bag. “Later. Yeah, I’ll read it. Luke,” and to his horror, his eyes fill. “I’m so tired.”

“Why don’t I walk you to your place, and you can get some rest, brother.”

When they get back to the intern house, Harry introduces Luke around to the people who are there, Alice, Maxxie and Niall, and after a bit, Luke takes his leave. He’s actually booked a whale watch for that afternoon, the one that Maxxie is working, so she and Alice offer to walk him over to pier, and show him some of the sights. After the door closes behind them, Harry turns to find Niall looking at him speculatively.

“What?” he asks defensively.

Niall just turns and heads up the stairs. At the landing he stops and looks back, seemingly surprised that Harry isn’t following him. “C’mon, you need a cuddle.”

They crawl into Niall’s bed in his cozy room, and Harry feels himself exhale for the first time in what seems like days. He sighs, stunned at how quickly things had changed from the morning before, when he’d been feeling so happy, so optimistic about things. Now, he is going to have confront the reality of his feelings for Louis, the events of his family imploding, the possibility of reconnection, and oh yes, the impending death of the only mother he’s ever known. Not to mention, he is supposed to be starting his work study job at Brown in less than a month, and classes are beginning in about 6 weeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Niall asks softly.

Harry burrows in closer to Niall’s side. “No. Really not at all.”

“Do you think you need to?”

Jesus, why is Harry surrounded by all of these emotionally healthy people? It’s annoying.

“Yeah, probably.” He rolls onto his back with an irritated sigh. “How about, I just get in my car and drive to Canada. There’s whale work in Canada, right?”

Niall shrugs. “Dunno, mate. Belugas, maybe? It gets really fucking cold in Canada, but everyone’s super nice. So, might be worth it. Except, it isn’t where you really want to be, is it.”

“Why is everyone forcing me to face uncomfortable truths about myself?” Harry sulks. “Maybe I really _do_ want to go to Canada! I’ve heard it’s nice!”

“You don’t want to go to Canada, you want to go live in happily ever after bliss with Louis in Providence, and study whales and have babies,” Niall says wisely.

Harry stares at him. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Oh, Harry,” Niall’s smile is sweet and sympathetic. “You’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself that you guys are just friends, but it’s so clear, mate. Everyone else can see it.”

Harry groans, and flops down on to the bed, flinging his arm over his eyes. “I think I’ve had all the insight I can handle for today, to be honest.” He thinks of the letter in his bag, and swiftly shoves the thought away. It’s too much, all just too much. “What the hell day is it even, anyway?”

“Tuesday, mate, late day tomorrow.” Niall leans over Harry and rummages under the bed, pulling out a crumpled brown paper bag. He tosses Harry a knowing grin. “Wanna get high?”

Harry ignores that fact that he hasn’t had one text from Louis all day. They’d been a bit awkward around each other that morning, and finally Harry had gathered his things. When he’d left, Louis had pulled him into a hug and pressed a sweet, soft kiss onto his lips. “Be well, Harry,” was all he’d said, and Harry had pretended that it hadn’t sounded like goodbye.

“I’m in.”

An hour later, Niall and Harry are stretched out on the bed together, giggling madly over the baby panda videos that Niall’s cousin had sent him, when Harry rolls over.

“I’mma text Louis.” He announces this with great firmness.

“That, my friend,” Niall says, sitting up and immediately flopping back down onto the pillows, “Is an error.”

“Well,” Harry says, “I’m doing it.”

Harribo:     Lou. LOUISSSSSSSS. LOOOOOUISABSJHWBBE

Harribo:     WHere are you? You’re not here, Lou.

Harribo:     I’m sad, Lou. Louissssssssss.

LalaLou:     Are you high?

Harribo:     HOW DID YOU KNOW??? FUCK CAN YOU READ MINDS?

LalaLou:     I’ll talk to you later, Harry. Have fun with Niall.

Harry stares at his phone, squints at it as the text blurs, and then drops it onto the bed. “How’d he know it was you I got high with, Nialler?” The room is spinning a bit, and he feels all light and floaty.

“Well,” says Niall reasonably, taking another bong hit, “Who else would it be, really?”

Harry snickers at that. Then he turns to Niall and frowns. “Luke thinks I’m a bat,” he says solemnly.

Niall’s mouth drops and his eyes widen. “No _way!_ Can you, what’s it called, I had mono during that part of zoology,” he snaps his fingers several times and then sits bolt upright and shouts excitedly, “Echolocation, Harry! _Can you echolocate?”_

Harry stares at him, baffled. “What? What the fuck are you talking about? No!” He makes a couple of experimental squeaking noises just to confirm, and then starts giggling. “Nah, he thinks cuz like I didn’t know I was in love with Louis and now my mom’s dying but she loves me again and it’s just all...confusing, Nialler. It’s confusing.”

Niall nods. “It does sound confusing. But wait,” here he pauses, looking a bit stunned, “you seriously didn’t know, that you're in love with Louis?” He starts giggling and flops back onto the bed. “I wish I coulda seen your face, that musta been epic.”

“It sucked.” Harry says grumpily. “I was in public and everything. But the waitress gave me a free mocha, so that was nice.”

Niall nods. “You know what you need, Haz? You need to listen to Beethoven.”

Harry makes a confused and startled face, suddenly feeling like ever talking again will be just too much effort. Not that he has anything against Beethoven, really, but the dude has never been his go-to. He’s more of Mozart man himself. Beethoven can be so...messy.

Niall unintentionally follows Harry’s thoughts. “Beethoven has no fucking chill, dude, none at all. You need to listen to some Beethoven and get out of your head. Then we’ll get pizza, and you can go to bed. Your bags have bags, mate, you look exhausted.”

So that’s what they do. Niall blasts the Egmont Overture, and by the end of it, all the housemates are crammed into Niall’s bed, singing along as the walls vibrate from the powerful music. They squabble over pizza toppings, and by 8:00, Harry is tucked into bed, finally able to sleep.

Just as he’s drifting off he realizes that Louis hasn’t texted him back. He wishes he wasn’t surprised by this. He wishes it doesn’t hurt as much as it does.

**July 22nd - July 31st**

It isn’t that they stop talking. But, it becomes immediately clear to Harry that something has shifted significantly between him and Louis, after the night they make love for the first time.

Harry has no idea why things have changed. He only knows that they have. He and Louis are no longer texting much at all, and Louis has picked up extra bartending shifts at Simon’s, so he hasn’t been available to hang out with Harry on his days off. Harry had gone to several of his shows, but it had felt so sad and lonely, he’s even stopped doing that. Every once a while, they send each other a text, but Harry knows soon that he’ll lose even that tenuous contact.

Several days after Luke had gotten home, he’d called Harry, shouting into the phone, _“She fucking bloomed, bro!”_ The experimental treatment had worked, had bought Sue some time and ease. Harry had hung up the phone, and sank to his knees in the middle of MacMillan Pier, too overcome even to cry. Niall had bundled him home for the rest of the day, and that was how Harry’s boss had found out about the situation. He’d awkwardly taken Harry aside and said, “If you need to leave early, Harry, and go home, you know you can, right? We can figure it out here, and you’ll be getting nothing but a stellar recommendation from everyone here.” Harry knows he needs to do this before he goes to Providence, and he decides to take Ben up on his offer.

Harry has read the letter from Sue, and it left him weeping and exhausted. She’d taken responsibility for her anger, her terrible words, and begged forgiveness, while acknowledging that she knew he might not give it, or that it might take time. Unspoken are the words that they don’t have time, not really. Harry knows that he wants to go home, and he is due in Providence on the afternoon of August 15th, to get the keys to his new housing. He will have his first meeting with his work study advisor the day after that, who has already been emailing Harry about the research proposal they will be working on. All of a sudden, it feels like no matter which way he turns, he’s running out of time.


	5. August 2016

**August 1st**

Finally, Harry has had enough. He’s leaving the next day to go home for a week, and he’s terrified of how this will go. When he gets back, he’ll have one more week in Provincetown and then he’ll be packing up and heading to Brown. He can’t believe it’s almost over.

“I have had enough, Niall,” he announces firmly, as they stand side-by-side in their small bathroom, brushing their teeth. Niall doesn’t say anything as Harry continues, “This is such bullshit. I don’t know what I did to make him stop talking to me, but all along, he promised that our friendship was the most important, and he’s being a really crappy friend.”

Niall spits foam into the basin, and then carefully runs the water briefly to rinse it down the drain, as Harry has finally taught him to do.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Haz.”

“Hey,” Harry frowns, irrationally offended on Louis' behalf. “I thought you liked Louis.”

“I do. But the way he’s treating you, it’s not right. Now, I’m not saying this is all of his doing, you’re part of the problem too, Harry.” Harry frowns more deeply, not wanting to admit that he knows Niall is right. “Did you ever even tell the lad how you felt about him? Did you reach out and tell him you need him, or even that you wanted to see him? No, you did not.”

Harry winces, remembering a particularly embarrassing moment a few nights ago, when Niall had found him drunkenly reading through all of his old texts with Louis, had taken his phone and, after reading through them, said in amazement, “What the fuck, Harry? You shut him down completely.”

Harry thinks of their last text exchange.

Harribo:     I miss you

LalaLou:     It’s late, Harry. Have you been drinking?

Harribo:     What difference does that make? Whatever.

LalaLou:     Do you need me to come over?

Harribo:     No. I don’t need you.

He remembers watching those three dots appear and disappear several times, until finally it was clear, Louis wasn’t going to answer him.

“Niall. He didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want me. He was just looking for summer fun, he _told_ me that, he wasn’t looking to date anyone, and I can’t ask someone who’s not my, you know, boyfriend, to sign on for all the shit that I’ve got going on right now.”

“And that was your choice, Styles, but you can’t blame the lad for not reading your mind.”

“I know,” Harry says quietly, his righteous anger leaving him. “That’s why I’m going to go talk to him. Right now. He’s not working today, and neither am I. I’m leaving tomorrow for a week, Niall, I have to see him before I go.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

Harry just shakes his head. “I don’t...I just don’t know.”

But when Harry knocks on the door of 1B, it is Zayn, not Louis who opens the door. Zayn narrows his eyes at Harry. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”

What the fuck? Harry stares at Zayn. “I’m sorry, is there a problem here?”

Zayn shrugs casually, the epitome of careless grace, the bastard. “Nah. Just, you know, you kind of dropped of the radar.”

“Well, I’ve kind had a lot going on, what with my mom dying of cancer and all,” Harry says coldly, marveling at his own tone. “And besides, Louis’s been busy, I got the message loud and clear.”

Zayn stares at him. “You got what message? What the hell are you talking about?”

Feeling like he’s missing something important, but too focused on the mission at hand, Harry says, “Can I come in? I need to talk to Louis.”

An odd expression crosses Zayn’s face. “You can come in, bro, but Lou’s not here. He went home to Arlington for a couple of days to see his family. Didn’t he mention it?”

Harry feels like he’s been dropped out of an airplane without a parachute. Of every scenario he’d conceived in his mind, none of them had involved Louis simply not being here. “Um, when is he getting back?”

Zayn nods once, as if things are suddenly making perfect sense to him, but Harry can’t understand how that could be, because nothing makes sense if Louis isn’t here. How can he fix things, at least get them back to friendship, if Louis is gone? “He’ll be back Thursday.”

Defeated, Harry feels his shoulders slump, and he turns away. “Oh. Well. I guess…” his voice trails off. “Tell him that I had to go home and see my mom. I’ll be back on the 9th. Tell him. I don’t know.”

As Harry walks away, he hears Zayn call out to him, “Harry. You should tell him yourself.”

Harry just shakes his head and keeps walking. He doesn’t look back.

**August 9th**

Harry steps off the ferry onto the Provincetown dock. He’d left Minneapolis at the reasonable hour of 6:30 am, landing in Boston at 12:30. He’d managed to get the 2:00 ferry, so it is still early in the afternoon. He’d sent Louis a text right before he’d boarded the plane to Minneapolis-St. Paul.

Harribo:     I’m getting on the plane. Going home to see my mom. I’ll be back on the 9th.

LalaLou:     I hope it goes well for you, Harry.

And that was it. He headn’t heard anything else, and after a few days, he’d stopped checking his phone He’d finally broken down and texted Zayn the night before, asking about Louis' work schedule.

Zayneroni: He’s not working until Thursday this week. You need to talk to him.

Harry hopes that by just showing up, he’ll be able to finally figure out what is going on with them. He’s missed Louis, more that he thought it possible to miss another person. The week at home has been exhausting, but also profoundly healing. There’d been more tears cried by all of them that week than, Harry was pretty sure, in the rest of his life combined. He’d been able, finally, to tell his parents who he really is, and what it had been like to hide such an essential part about himself his whole life. There’d been shouting, anger, crying and forgiveness. And a whole lot of pie.

At one point, Sue had said, in a vain attempt to be casual, “So, Luke tells me you have a young man?”

Harry had tried to shoot lasers from his eyes at his brother, sadly unsuccessfully, as Sue had howled with laughter. “Um, not really. I guess we kind of stopped seeing each other?” Harry’s voice had been shaky and he’d known that he wasn’t convincing anyone with his own attempt to be casual. “I just think maybe I liked him more than he liked me. I don’t think he was looking for big feelings. I don’t think he wanted mine.”

Sue’s face had softened, and Harry had sighed, knowing he hadn’t fooled her at all. Then again, he never could.

She had just hugged Harry, and said, “Listen to me, Harry. If there’s anything that being diagnosed with terminal cancer will give you, it’s a quick lesson in what really matters. When I realized that I might die,” she hugged Harry tighter at his incoherent protest, “when I realized that I really might _die_ with things left so terribly between us, I understood that it doesn’t matter to me if you’re gay, straight, or whatever else the kids are calling it these days. I love you, Harry, you’re my _son_. If you love this boy, don’t let something like pride stand between you. If you haven’t told him, tell him.”

“But what if he doesn’t love me back?” Harry had choked out.

“Well,” Sue had shrugged, “Then he doesn’t love you back. But you’ll never know if you don’t tell him, and Harry, you just don’t know how much time you have. Don’t waste it. Don’t you dare waste one single moment.”

So here Harry is, standing on Louis' doorstep. He’d stopped by his house to drop his suitcase and wash the airport off of him, and then, amidst the hugs and good luck wishes from his housemates, he’d walked directly to Louis'.

When Harry knocks on Louis' door, it takes a minute or two for anyone to answer. When Louis opens the door, Harry feels his heart leap in his chest and without thinking, he reaches out but Louis steps back just out of reach, and pastes a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Harry. Hey, I was just, um, I was just heading out.”

“Bullshit.”

Louis opens his mouth as if to speak and then masks his face with a look of irritation. “What the hell, Harry. I actually _do_ need to go grocery shopping.”

“I’m sure that you do, but you’re not going out. You would never leave the house in that tank or those shorts. And I’m pretty sure you’re not wearing underpants, Tomlinson, and even you don’t freeball it at the Stop and Shop.” Harry surprises himself with the words he’s spitting at Louis, but he doesn’t back down.

At that, Louis rolls his eyes in annoyance, and mutters, “Stop looking at my dick, _Styles.”_ He turns and stalks away from Harry towards the back deck, calling grumpily over his shoulder, “Well, come in, if you must. Zayn’s not here, he’s at Liam’s for the night.” He veers into the kitchen and grabs two beers, and handing one to Harry, walks out through the sliders, and slumps down on the double lounger. Harry’s heart aches, and he has no idea what is wrong, or how even to begin trying to fix it.

He sits tentatively down on the lounger next to Louis, remembering that very first kiss there, his heart breaking in his chest. Feeling his keys digging uncomfortably into his thigh, he pulls them from his pocket and dropped them on the side table. Finally he says “Please, Louis.” Next to him, Louis stills, his eyes closing briefly. “Please, just tell me what I did wrong. If I did something to hurt you, or make you angry...please just tell me.”

Louis stares out at the harbor, absentmindedly picking at the label on the beer bottle. Finally, he says in a low, flat voice. “You didn’t do anything, Harry. I just think things got a little too intense, I guess. It’s better for both of us if we back off. Give it some time to cool off.”

“But you said we were _friends._ I miss my friend, Louis. I miss you.”

“Harry.” Louis' voice is cracked and broken, and he takes a deep breath. “I can’t. I can’t give you what you want, Harry.”

Harry freezes. _He knows. Louis knows that Harry is in love with him, and he doesn’t feel the same_. It’s funny, Harry thinks hollowly, that your heart can break right in two in the middle of your chest, and never make a sound. “Oh.” He clears his throat. “Okay.” Numbly he sets his bottle down.

“It’s just,” Harry has never heard Louis' voice sound so flat and grey. “I think you just need something different.”

Slowly, he rises to his feet, the last shards of hope splintering in his gut. “Okay, Louis. I’ll, um. I’ll just go.” He walks towards the sliders, and then pauses, not turning around. “I’m.” He coughs. “I’m leaving for Brown next week. I can get into my dorm on the 15th.” Swallowing the last of his pride, he says, “I was really hoping to see you in Providence, Lou.”

There is a long moment of silence, and then Louis replies, “I don’t know, Harry. I don’t know if I can do that.”

Harry closes his eyes at the words. What he is feeling goes so far beyond pain, he’s breathless from it. For a moment, he feels a flash of rage, to have lost so much that he loves seems so unfair. Then, the rage fades, leaving him empty and hollow. With nothing more to say, he does the only thing still left to him. He walks out the door.

He’s about halfway home when he realizes that he’s left his keys on the table. “Shit.” He stops abruptly, running a frustrated hand through his hair. The last thing he wants to do right now is see Louis again, after the humiliation of that interaction, but he needs his keys. Sighing, he turns around and heads back to the apartment. Knocking softly, he pushes the door open. “Louis. Hey, I’m sorry to bug you, I just…”

As he makes his way out to the back deck, he stops abruptly. Louis is on the lounger where Harry had left him, but he isn’t sitting. He’s curled up into a ball against the cushions, arms wrapped around himself as if to keep from falling apart. And he’s sobbing.

Harry stares, and then, moving quickly, drops down onto the lounger next to him, pulling Louis into his arms. What the hell could have happened in the time since he’d left? “Louis, my god, what’s wrong?”

Louis' eyes open, drenched with tears and he stares at Harry in confusion. “H-Harry?” he stutters, struggling to regain some control, “What are you doing here?”

“I left my keys.” Harry nods toward the offending item on the side table, his arms still wrapped around Louis. “The door was open, so I just came in to grab them. And I saw you. What the fuck, Louis, what the fuck is going on? What happened? Is someone hurt? Are your sisters okay?” His heart is pounding, voice rising, blood thundering in his ears.

Louis scrubs an impatient hand over his eyes, sniffs and says, “No one’s hurt, Harry. Well, no one but me, I guess.”

Confused, Harry lets go, as Louis leans back against the lounger cushions. “What do you mean? I don’t think I’m following here, Louis.”

“I just, saying goodbye to you. I didn’t think it was going to h-hurt,” his voice catches, “so fucking much.”

Before he can stop himself, the words burst from Harry like a dam breaking, “Then _why_ did you do it? You know how I feel about you!”

Louis stares back at him, the evident confusion on his face mirroring Harry’s own. “That’s _why,_ Harry. Because of how you feel about me.”

“Okay, you’re going to have help me out here. You know how I feel about you, and you’re sobbing like your heart is breaking at saying goodbye to me, but you told me to go,” again he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, “I don’t fucking _get_ it, Louis. You’re making no sense!”

“It’s because I fucking fell in love with you, you asshole!” Louis shouts. “I’m in love with you, which was _not_ on my plan for this summer, by the way, to find what seems to be the love of my _fucking_ life, so thanks for that, and anyway, you’re not in love with me! You don’t even know what you want.” His voice dwindles. “I know you don’t love me, Harry. Not the way that I love you.”

Harry’s jaw drops. “The hell I don’t!” he shouts, no, _roars_. “Fuck you, Louis, I’m completely in love with you too, you unmitigated _prick.”_

The two men stare at each other, their angry words seeming to echo in the silence, and then, “Wait, what?” Louis asks.

“I’ve been in love with you for _ages_ , Louis. I loved you long before I even knew that I did. Everyone else saw it. I guess it was obvious, and I figured that I wanted more from you than you wanted, and you _knew_ it. So you pulled away. You’ve said all along that you just wanted a friends with benefits thing.” Harry is shaking with rage, and his heart hasn’t quite caught up to the words his mind is processing.

“At first, that was all I did want,” Louis admits, his voice quiet but gaining strength as he speaks. “But, _Christ_ , Harry, you’re amazing, how could I do anything but fall in love with you? I kept saying that was what I wanted because _you_ kept saying that was what you wanted. I thought, you’re so new to being out, and having options, and you should go off, explore who you are, learn what you like. I thought being your friend would be enough for me, but then we made love.” Louis stares up at him, his hands twisting in his lap.

“And it was incredible,” Harry whispers, overwhelmed at the beauty of the memory.

“It was. It has never, ever been like that for me, Harry, with anyone. And I knew, I couldn’t just be your friend. It hurt too much. I knew you were in pain, hurting from all this stuff with your family, and I just figured the best thing I could do for you was to pull back and give you space.”

“But, Louis, that wasn’t your choice to make. I needed you, I needed my _best friend.”_

Louis' eyes fill and he says on a choked sob, “I know, Harry, I’m so fucking sorry I let you down.”

“And yeah, I do want to do all that exploring of who I am and what I like, but I want to do it with _you.”_

Louis inhales sharply and then his mouth begins to quirk into a tentative smile. “You do?”

“Oh, Louis,” Harry shakes his head fondly and says quietly, “You’re such an idiot. Of course I do. That’s pretty much all I’ve wanted since the day I met you. Couldn't you tell?”

Louis reaches up, and cups his hand around the sharp curve of Harry’s jaw, absentmindedly running his fingers over the light scruff he finds there. “Say it again,” he says softly, “Please, Harry. Say it again.”

And Harry closes his eyes briefly, leans into Louis' touch, and then opens them again, staring into Louis' red-rimmed eyes, so close to his own, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Pressing his forehead to Louis', he whispers, “I love you, Louis Tomlinson, and I swear to you, this is it for me. _You_ are it for me, and I think it’s pretty likely that I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”

Louis takes a deep shuddering breath, and presses his lips to Harry’s, murmuring something that sounds like “I’m sorry” and something that sounds like “I love you, you asshole, so much.”

Harry takes his time, reacquainting himself with Louis’s mouth, reminding himself of how it feels to be this close to him. He remembers the words his mother had said to her as she’d kissed him goodbye at the airport, and smiles, which causes Louis to pull back a bit, looking at him curiously.

“When my mom and dad dropped me off at the airport to come back, my mom said to me, ‘Just tell him, Harry, you might be surprised at what happens. Life is too short to waste time on silence.’” His gaze turns somber for a moment as the reality of his life presses into this moment and he sees compassion on Louis’ face.

“She sounds like a smart woman, your mom,” Louis murmurs, bringing his hand up to cup Harry’s cheek. “Do you want to talk about the visit?”

Harry shakes his head and Louis’ face falls. “No, it’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, I do. It was good, Lou, it was _really_ good. It was hard, but I feel like we can move forward now, with whatever time we have left. I want to tell you all about it, okay? But not now. Right now…” His voice trails off as he feels a rush of excitement low in his gut, as he thinks about what he wants now.

They look at each other for another long moment, and then, Harry isn’t sure who moves first, they’re surging towards each other, grabbing and holding on tightly as they kiss. It’s not gentle and it’s not easy, not even to start. Harry feels like he’s on fire, lightning flashing in his bones as Louis kisses him, hard and frantic as they tumble backwards onto the lounger and Harry is lost to the sensation of Louis’s body underneath him. He’s missed everything about Louis, but he has to admit, he’s missed this too. _A lot._

“Oh god,” he groans as Louis grabs his ass, yanking Harry’s body flush to his own so that Harry can feel, though the soft shorts Louis is wearing, the hard line of his cock pressing against Harry’s own, which is rapidly becoming very interested in the proceedings at hand. “Louis, oh my fucking god,” and then, on a particularly well-aimed thrust, he hears himself cry out “oh, _fuck,_ Louis.”

Louis stills under him and gives him an impish grin. “Yeah, that sounds good,” his voice is breathless, already hoarse with the passion rising between them. He’s so beautiful, Harry can’t quite focus on the words he’s saying.

“I...what?” He stares at Louis, not quite sure what he’s hearing.

Louis arches under him, pressing up firmly, hard cock to hard cock through the layers of fabric that separate them. “You should fuck me. That’s what you should do, right now. If,” suddenly he looks almost uncertain, “If that’s something you’d want?”

Harry has to press a hand to his cock to keep from coming posthaste. “Uh, I could…” he has to close his eyes against the images that flood his mind, overwhelmed. He takes a deep breath and then another, and then, opening his eyes, he says “Do you want that, baby?” The unfamiliar endearment falls easily from his lips. He’s never called Louis sweet names before, but now that he _can,_ he thinks, most likely he will never, ever, stop.

Louis flat-out moans as he says, “Oh fuck, Harry, yeah, _yes,_ I want that.” Impatiently he shoves Harry off of him and stands, dragging Harry to his feet. “C’mon, inside, get inside, I want you inside…”

They stumble down the hallway, and burst through the door into Louis’ room, and Harry can’t help but be engulfed by all the memories he and Louis have created together in this place: the conversations and laughter, the sex and tears, the love and the grief, all the firsts that Harry has experienced here. The kiss they are sharing becomes soft, sweet, and so achingly gentle that Harry feels his heart crack wide open. The joy of knowing that he still has what he thought he’d lost forever thrills him, and helps him to slow down, to savor every moment, every sound and touch, every feeling that flows through him.

He carefully moves Louis towards the bed and gently pushes him down, following him quickly, their mouths fused together. So often in their interludes, Louis has taken the lead, being the one with more experience, but there’s something almost shy about him in this moment as Harry braces himself over his body and leans in to kiss him again.

“Tell me again,” he murmurs into Louis’ neck, “Tell me what you want.”

Louis takes a deep, shuddering breath and says clearly, “I want you inside me, Harry, _please_. I want you to fuck me.”

Harry nods and then grins. “You’re gonna have to walk me through this,” he says a bit hesitantly, and Louis smiles back, so radiantly that Harry almost can’t breathe.

“I can do that,” he murmurs.

Harry rolls over and sits up to open the bedside table drawer beside him. He pulls out the lube and a couple of condoms, setting the latter aside on the pillow for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he pulls Louis up to sitting as well, and yanks off his own shirt, then Louis’s tank. Shoving Louis, who goes down willing onto his back, he slots himself between Louis’ strong thighs, and leans down to seal their mouths together once more. He pours everything he’s feeling into that kiss, every ounce of love, every hope and dream for their future, and from the way Louis moans, long and low as he opens up under Harry’s demanding mouth, Harry thinks Louis hears every word he’s not saying.

They kiss again and again, until Harry is breathless; his cheeks are burning from Louis’ stubble and his mouth feels raw. They’re pressed close together and Harry can’t help but grind down, savoring the feel of Louis’ body against his own. Louis gasps and arches up against Harry and his eyes open. He looks dazed, a bit startled, with his hair in disarray and his mouth pink and swollen.

“Please, just...fuck, Harry, come on.”

Harry grins, and slides down the bed, peeling Louis’ shorts down around his thighs as he goes. He gives a smug smile of satisfaction as Louis’ achingly hard cock, already leaking and damp, is revealed in all its glory. “Told you,” he crows, “No underpants.”

He quickly shimmies out of his own shorts and boxer briefs as well, leaving them both gloriously naked, and then leans down to lick a long stripe from Louis’ balls to the very tip of his dick, and Louis gives a strangled cry as Harry pulls his shorts the rest of the way down and tosses them off to the side. He feels overwhelmed, _ravenous_ , and without another word, sucks Louis down as far as he can take him, and Louis gives another of those rasping cries.

“Oh my fucking god,” he pants, as Harry works him over, “Fuck, _fuck,_ Harry, shit, you have to stop, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come,” and Harry reluctantly pulls off. “You gotta…” His voice is breathless and his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to regain control and Harry feels yet again, a deep sense of not just satisfaction, he realizes, but something almost like gratitude that Louis is undone because of him.

This sparks another thought and without thinking it through, he presses down on Louis’ hip and says hoarsely, “No one else, Louis, I don’t want you to be with anyone else. Please? Be my boyfriend?”

Louis props himself up on one elbow and gives Harry a searching look and then his face breaks open in a gentle smile and he reaches his other hand up to cup Harry’s face, “Harry,” he says, and starts to laugh, “Harry, I’ve barely looked at another man since that first night we met. I’ve been yours from very beginning, I just couldn’t admit it. I think I’ve been your boyfriend for weeks.”

Harry drops his head against Louis’ leg, blinking back tears and then looks up to meet Louis’ eyes. “I’ve think I’ve been yours from the moment you walked out onto that stage, from the first time I saw you sing,” he whispers, “Only you, Louis, it’s only ever been you.”

They smile at each other, another one of those moments where Harry feels suspended outside of time as he takes in the sight of Louis’ smile, and he shakes his head a bit, laughing at how they both could have been so blind. “Oh Lou,” he murmurs, feeling a smile overtake his face, “I love you so much.”

Louis just grins back and says, “I love you too, Harry. But you’re getting distracted, c’mon. I want you, so can you please hurry it up a bit?”

Harry laughs and grabs the lube. “Like I said, you’re going to have to walk me through this,” and curiously, Louis’ face looks almost embarrassed as he flushes red.

“Well,” he says, “Actually, there’s not going to be too much prep needed.”

Confused, Harry says, “Wait, what? What do you mean?”

Louis throws his arm over his face and mutters something Harry can’t quite make out.

“What, Lou, what did you say?”

Louis sighs and moves his arm, staring resolutely at the ceiling. “I _said,”_ he says carefully, “That I may have been...thinking about you...and missing you and...playing around.”

Harry sits back on his haunches, enjoying for a moment the feel of Louis’ leg hair on his bare bottom, and ponders this. “Playing?” He asks interestedly, “Playing with what?”

His face still red, Louis reaches under the pillow and pulls out…Harry’s jaw drops and he has to press a firm hand to his cock at the sight of the dildo Louis has unearthed. “Holy shit,” he breathes.

It’s not, Harry is relieved to see, a intimidating and lifelike monster like some of the things they carry at Toys of Eros. It’s a perfectly reasonable size, and, Harry surreptitiously glances between the dildo and his own erect dick, making a quick comparison, he’s pleased to see that he measures up, quite literally. This is a good thing, only, Harry assures himself, because if that’s the, you know, _size_  that Louis likes, well, then maybe Harry will do okay with this. In any case, it’s a lovely, sparkly purple, and Harry thinks it’s adorable.

He turns his gaze back to Louis, and as he says, “I like your dildo, it’s cute,” he registers that Louis has covered his face again and he’s still red and looking uncomfortable.

At Harry’s words, he peeks out from under his arm, and frowns, “Cute?” He says cautiously, “You think it’s cute?”

“Yeah,” Harry licks his lips and doesn’t miss the way Louis’s eyes track the movement of his tongue as he carefully takes the thing from Louis’s unresisting hand. “So, how, uh…” His voice trails off, and then he looks more closely at Louis. “Wait, are you embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed? C’mon, Louis, what’s going on here?”

“It’s just,” Louis bites his lip and won’t meet Harry’s eyes. “I don’t know, it’s a little, weird maybe?”

“Weird?” Harry is confused. “I’m pretty sure it’s not that weird, Louis. I mean, I know I’m not the most worldly gay guy out there, but if the contents of Toys of Eros are anything to go by, people like dildos a lot.”

“No,” Louis huffs a sigh, and finally meets Harry’s gaze, his face uncharacteristically uncertain. “Just, like, having it here in bed. You know, you, me, and it.”

Harry snorts with laughter, and says “You make it sound like we’re having a threesome, Lou. I mean, are toys not part…” He searches for the right phrase, “Not part of your repertoire?”

Finally, _finally,_ that uncertain look on Louis’s face eases and he laughs a bit too, and rolls his eyes at Harry. “Yeah, not so much for me, I guess,” he admits, “I didn’t even realize that I was, I don’t know, self-conscious about it.”

Harry leans down and kisses Louis, gently at first, and then more forcefully, trying to convey without words that there’s nothing, _nothing_ in the world that Louis ever has to be embarrassed about, not with him, not _ever._ As he feels the heat of Louis’ bare skin against his own, he is reminded quite powerfully that his naked body is pressed against Louis’ and then he gets an idea.

“Is there any particular reason?” Harry asks softly after long moments spent kissing, moving against each other, his voice breathless.

Louis looks almost dazed and says, “Reason? For what?”

“For not having a toy in bed? With us?” Because now that he’s had the thought, he cannot resist its pull, the idea of pushing the toy into Louis’ body, of watching his body open and accept the intrusion, preparing him for Harry to move within him. _God._ All of a sudden it’s all he can think about, and he wants this, so much. But only if Louis wants it too.

Louis’ eyes widen and Harry can see his chest lift sharply in anticipation as he says, “You’d...want to?”

Again Harry has to press a hand to his cock, as the images flood his imagination. “Do I _want_ to. Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.” He stills for a moment and then asks, “But do you? Because I don’t want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with,” and it strikes him hard, how far he’s come in one summer, how much he’s learned, and most of it from the man stretched out on the bed underneath him.

Louis yanks him down for another hot, messy and kiss and mutters against his mouth, “Yeah, yes. I do, Harry, oh god, please. I just want you to fuck me.”

Harry groans, and pulls back. “How, um, how do you want to do this?”

He rolls off of Louis and props himself up on one arm, lying next to him on the sun-warmed bed. Louis gives him an impish grin, and Harry is heartened to see that his self-confidence seems entirely restored. Louis stretches, the long golden lines of him seem almost to glow in the afternoon light, as he lays back against the pillows, and lazily wraps one hand around his own hard cock, and lets his legs spread. Harry swallows, hard, and tries not to whimper.

“So,” Louis says, “you’re gonna want to suit up that bad boy,” and tosses Harry one of the condoms he’d set aside earlier. Harry quickly rolls the latex down over the dildo and grins at Louis.

“Done,” he says and resists the urge to toss a salute. “Now what?”

“Well, you’re gonna want plenty of lube,” Louis’s had is still moving slowly over his cock and Harry is mesmerized by the sight.

“C’mon, Harry, focus,” Louis says softly and Harry’s eyes snap back to meet his. “I should be,” he coughs and then continues, “I should be pretty open from this morning, so I don’t need fingers today, but usually, um. Yeah.” He’s flushing again, but seems determined to see this through.

Harry trails one hand firmly down Louis’ body, takes a moment to roll one nipple between his thumb and finger while he fastens his mouth on the other as Louis arches up into the touch, crying out in surprise. Then Harry inches his way down Louis’ body, mouthing along his ribs, his iliac crest, his hip, as he goes, and settles himself between Louis’ legs. He grabs the dildo and squeezes a thick dollop of lube onto the sheathed toy, and carefully gets the whole thing wet and slick.

He slides down further and Louis spreads his legs more widely and Harry can’t help himself, he runs his tongue from the opening presented to him up Louis’ balls until he reaches the very tip of his cock, and sucks him down.

Louis moans again and whispers, “Oh fuck, Harry. _Harry.”_ He moves almost frantically and then says again, “C’mon, just, fuck me now, baby, please. _Please.”_

Harry takes a deep breath, then rises to his knees and presses the tip of the dildo to Louis and pushes, first gently and then a bit more forcefully. He watches as the toy makes its way into the deepest, most secret part of Louis’ body and feels so humbled that Louis is willing to share this with him. Well, humbled and exceptionally turned on.

Louis is moaning now, lying back against the pillows, eyes closed as he presses back down against where the toy is entering him, biting his lip. His hand is still wrapped loosely around his cock, but it’s not moving, and Harry carefully bats it away, replacing it with his own. Louis’ eyes fly open and he stares frantically at Harry as his hips rock, as Harry moves his hands in tandem, one jacking Louis off slowly, the other plunging the toy into his body over and over again.

Louis’ breath hitches as he stares at Harry, clearly overwhelmed with the sensation as Harry works him over until he’s suddenly shouting, “Fuck, fuck, Harry, stop, oh my god, stop.”

Harry panics, yanks the dildo out of Louis and drops his cock like a hot potato, mind racing. _Shit, did I hurt him?_ It hadn’t looked like he was in pain, oh god. Had he pushed too hard?

“Are you okay?” He asks frantically, “Louis, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Chest heaving, Louis stares at him. “What? No. Fuck, no. I was just getting too close. I don’t want to come on that thing, want to come on your cock.”

They stare at each other and then Harry starts to laugh helplessly as he says, “You just scared the shit out of me, I thought I had hurt you.” He brings a hand to his pounding heart and sighs.

“You didn’t hurt me, Harry,” Louis whispers, “No fucking way, not at all. It felt so fucking good. That’s not gonna hurt me, Harry,” He stares at him, his eyes dark and hooded as he says, “Fuck me, Harry, now, okay? I can take it, and I want you in me.”

And just like that, the intensity snaps back up between them, and then Harry is kissing Louis, and Louis is rolling the condom down over his rock hard length and slicking him up and Harry is pressing his way slowly into the _tight-hot-heat_ of Louis’ body. He’s overwhelmed by the sensation and the power of the moment, and Louis is crying out and arching up under him as they move together, filling the room with the sight and sound and scent of their love as Harry thrusts again and again, until finally, he’s wrapping one hand around Louis as he empties himself into the condom and Louis is snapping his hips hard as Harry slams into him one last time, and coming with an incoherent cry.

For a long moment, the room is filled only with the sounds of their gasping breaths and then Harry drops down onto Louis with a thud, ignoring for a moment the mess between them.

“Holy shit,” Louis mumbles beneath him, and his arms come up to wrap gently around Harry. “I can’t feel my feet.”

“I think I’m dead,” Harry replies, his words muffled as his face is buried in Louis’ shoulder, “I think you killed me.”

“Well,” Louis says philosophically, his hand rubbing a small circle between Harry’s shoulder blades, “At least you died a happy man.”

“And then some,” Harry says, and carefully rolls off Louis and curls around him, holding him tight. They look at each other for a long moment, and then Harry smiles.

“I don’t need three wishes, Lou.”

“What,” Louis turns his head to look at him quizzically, smiling a bit. “What are you talking about?”

“That song you sang, about the three wishes. I don’t need three, I just need one, because you’re it, Louis. You’re my wish.”

Louis reaches one hand up, cups Harry’s cheek and leans in to kiss him. It’s a soft kiss, gentle and sweet, a kiss of comfort and promises and forevers. It is, of course, a kiss of love, so achingly tender that it brings tears to Harry’s eyes as Louis smiles at him.

“If I had three wishes,” Louis says finally, “They’d all be for you.”


	6. June 2036

**June 1, 2036**

Harry slams the car door shut, and leans back, stretching his arms overhead and bending first to one side, then the other, in a modified half-moon pose, trying to ease the ache in his lower back. He runs a hand through his hair, which is sporting a lot more silver these days. Eager to get into the house after two weeks away, he opts to leave his things in the car. As he enters the gate and walks towards the house, the first thing he sees are scooters lying in the walkway. He sighs, stepping over them. Suddenly, he’s hit with a face full of cold water and then a small body scales him like a tree.

“ _ Daddy _ ! You’re home! We thought you weren’t going to be back until later!” Harry manages to wrangle his daughter while wiping his eyes. “Oops.” She smiles winningly at him and makes puppy eyes, which she knows he can’t resist. “Sorry about that, Daddy. But,” and here she manages to twist her body around and scream into his ear, “ _ This is war, Beckett! Hey, Beckett, Daddy’s home!” _

Another small figure barrels around the side of the house and slams into Harry, who somehow manages to stay on his feet without dropping his daughter.

Also at top volume, because, as Harry well knows, the Tomlinson-Styles twins have two volumes, asleep or 11, a voice shouts, “ _ Dad! Daddy! Hi!” _

Harry looks down at the small face beaming up at him with a gap-toothed smile, and feels his heart swell. He presses a kiss to Rosie’s brown waves and ruffles Beckett’s curls. “Hey guys! I missed you so much!”

As they move into the house, Rosie clinging like a limpet to Harry’s back, Beckett talking a mile a minute as he holds Harry’s hand, Harry shakes his head, laughing to himself. So much for a calm reentry, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. As the door closes behind him, Harry spots Louis coming down the stairs. His face lights up, and he hurries the last few steps to pull Harry into a tight hug.

“Hey, baby! Thought you weren’t getting home until later!” He presses a sweet kiss to Harry’s lips, and for a moment, with the three people he loves most in the world surrounding him, Harry is overwhelmed with love.

He lets Rosie down to the floor, and hauls Louis back against him for a more thorough kiss, while the twins roll their eyes and Beckett makes gagging noises. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Rosie is hopping up and down impatiently, her blue eyes sparkling. “Guess what! Stop kissing Papa, I have to tell you something!” Knowing the things that Rosie has to tell him will be endless, Harry kisses Louis for a bit longer, feeling his husband’s smile against his lips. He pulls back, presses his forehead to Louis', and says, “Just a moment, baby. I’ve not gotten to kiss Papa for two whole weeks!” He drops his voice and murmurs, “How’d you survive, love?” 

Unfortunately his job demands a few of these expeditions a year, and each time, Harry is reminded of how supportive Louis is, because he never complains, just makes sure the household continues to run, and everyone gets where they need to go and gets what they need to thrive. Just like Harry does, when Louis is pulled away for filming or other work obligations.

Louis simply smiles back. “Oh, it’s been okay - more take out than you’d like but you don’t get to complain! I have lots to tell you.”

Harry raises his hands in mock surrender, “No complaints from me, darling, when you’re in charge, you do whatever it takes!” They share another smile, and then Harry turns to Rosie, who is practically buzzing in excitement. 

She grabs him by the hand and tugs him into the kitchen. “Daddy! Hey, Daddy?! I have to show you this drawing that I did, and guess what, Daddy, Michael called me a name and I got mad but I didn’t even punch him and Mr. Ramirez got a puppy and it’s so cute, can we get a dog?! Daddy, can we??”

Harry shakes his head, laughing. When he and Louis had discussed having kids, they’d decided to go the surrogate route. They’d manage to find an egg donor who matched their own cultural backgrounds. After the harvest, they’d each fertilized half of the eggs, and transferred the best embryo from each to their surrogate, Jenn, and they’d won the lottery, hadn’t they? Both eggs had implanted, and Beckett and Rosie had been born 37 weeks later, and it hadn’t stopped since. It had become more and more clear who had fathered which child, as Rosie had Louis' sparkling eyes and huge grin, while Beckett’s green eyes and tousled mop were all Harry. But, Beckett, even at 8, has Louis' dry sense of humor, and Rosie has Harry’s soft heart.

“Dad,” Beckett says casually, as Harry pours himself a cup of coffee, “don’t you think since you’re home early, we should have a special breakfast?” 

Behind, Louis snorts as he reaches into the fridge and hands Harry the half-and-half. “Becks, you’ve been up since 6, you’ve already eaten twice, not sure it still counts as breakfast.”

Beckett just grins, dimple prominent as he replies, “Brunch then, Papa. I just think, you know, Daddy’s been gone for two weeks, and we should have pancakes.”

Harry laughs, and starts opening cupboards to pull out ingredients. It’s good to be home.

Later that evening, after teeth have been brushed, stories read, and goodnight kisses exchanged, he and Louis sit on the couch, feet up with a bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of them. Harry suddenly remembers what he’d been meaning to say. 

“You know what today is?”

Louis just grins back. “Of course, how could I forget? Twenty years, love. “ He shakes his head in amazement, and it hits Harry. Half of his life has been spent loving this man. He wraps an arm around Louis and pulls him in, taking a moment to breath him in. The house is strewn with the evidence of their life together. Photographs line the walls, scripts are stacked on Louis' desk in the corner of the living room, Beckett’s books and Rosie’s dolls are scattered in their corner of the big room. Everywhere Harry looks, he sees the life they’ve built together. It hasn’t always been easy, no long term relationship is, especially not when you add twins to the mix. But he wouldn’t change a thing, not one day of it. 

“My three wishes,” he whispers, heart overflowing, “they’d all be for you.”

Louis just leans in and kisses him, long and slow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for coming on this journey with me! I am so thrilled to finally be sharing this story with you!
> 
> Feel free to [come say hi on Tumblr!](http://phd-mama.tumblr.com/) If you enjoyed this, the rest of my stuff can be [found here!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/works) If you're interested in what's coming next, feel free to subscribe!
> 
> I would love it if you left a kudos or a comment, they all make my day brighter and inspire me to write moe!
> 
> Even better, if you feel moved to do so, [here's the rebloggable post on Tumblr!](https://phd-mama.tumblr.com/post/161278810728/if-i-had-three-wishes-theyd-all-be-for-you)


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